


Hunted

by Smosh_Fanfics (KateBlack)



Category: Smosh
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, F/F, F/M, Smut, Zombie, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-04 11:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 50,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13363959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateBlack/pseuds/Smosh_Fanfics
Summary: After a bomb was dropped on New York City, WWIII began. In retaliation, the American Government unleashed a plague onto their enemies. Transferred through bites, this virus turned people into mindless creatures whose only goal was to bite survivors. When the virus spread much farther than the Americans intended it too, the world fell into anarchy. And so the zombie apocalypse began.Wesley Johnson has somehow remained alive. With the help of his friend, David, he managed to find a survival group. Things were looking good for him... until a failed mission killed his girlfriend and earned him a bite.He was sure he was going to die. But when the virus doesn't start to spread, Wesley learns something dangerous; that he's immune. To make matters worse, the gang that his group is indebted to demands that they hand him over, as their leader is a firm believer that if you drink the blood of an immune, you become one yourself.Wes barely manages to escape. Finding himself alone in the wilderness, with no supplies, Wes doubts he'll be able to survive... especially after he learns that a certain purple-haired woman is hunting him.





	1. The Warehouse

Every step felt like it was too loud.

Wes was acutely aware of every move he made. He'd always been the anxious type, but since the outbreak, he'd gotten worse. He walked on his tipetoes, making sure to make as little noise as possible, which was hard with his ADHD.

Remina wasn't nearly as cautious. Every time he heard her make a noise, he winced. God, he loved that woman, but she was going to be the death of him.

The two made their way through the abandoned warehouse. Their mission was simple; find food. Ever since some raiders from a rival gang had destroyed their farms, the entire group had been starving. If Wes and Remina failed... he didn't want to think about it. No one did.

Wes didn't like it. The warehouse was too big, and all the identical lines of shelves made him feel like he was trapped, and offered way too many hiding spots. He could tell that Remina didn't like it either, even though the woman's emotions weren't the easiest to read.

"We're here," Wes almost jumped out of his skin when he heard her whisper. He stopped in his tracks, and followed her down one of the hallways.

He couldn't remember which company's warehouse they were in. All he could remember was that they handled vegetables, which was why only the shelves around them would contain any food; if their information was correct, they were the only ones that held canned foods. Everything else in the warehouse, all the fresh food products that were intended to be shipped out quickly, would be long rotten by now. At this point, they were probably just dust.

The boxes on the shelves looked undisturbed, which was a good sign. Wes helped Remina pull one out, making sure they made as little noise as possible. She took out her knife, and slowly cut open the tape. Wes' heart was beating erratically. If this box was empty, then the rest in the warehouse would probably be too, and they would starve.

Wes couldn't stop the feeling of relief that washed over him when he saw the box's contents; cans. Enough cans to feed the entire group for three weeks, at least. Remina smiled at him, and he couldn't help but smile back. He knew they were both thinking the same thing; if this box contained food, then the hundreds of others on this one shelf must too. The group would never have to worry about food again.

Quickly, the two started loading their bags with cans. They'd have to send out more people soon, to collect the other cans before another group found them. Once Wes had stuffed as many cans as he could into his bag, he stood up. Remina had been faster than him, and was already at the end of the hall. 

He put the box back on the shelf and jogged to catch up with her, all his past tension gone. Together, they made their way to the exit. 

That was when Wes heard scratching. Scratching that was far too loud to be that of a mouse's. A few seconds later, he heard a familiar sounding moan, and his fears were confirmed.

He pulled out his knife. Remina had heard it too, as she already had her's in her hand. He gave her a nod, and the two started sprinting towards the exit. If there was an infected in here, then he wanted to get as far away as possible.

Much to his horror, the sounds got louder as they ran. When they reached the door, panting for breath, Wes realized why. Pressing his ear to the door, his gut dropped.

There were infecteds _outside._  Lots of them. And as far as Wes knew, this was the only exit.

"They're outside," he whispered, as quietly as he could. Remina's face turned white.

"There has to be another exit," She whispered. But there wasn't. The only windows in the warehouse were near the ceiling, far too high to reach. And even if they could, the drop to the ground would kill them anyways.

"We could wait them out," Wes suggested. Remina gave him a look, and he instantly got her message. If they waited, everyone in their group would starve.

"I saw something on the Walking Dead," She whispered. "You know, that old show?"

"The one that started twelve years before the outbreak and never finished?" Wes asked. He'd watched it once, with David, which felt like ages ago. It was almost humorous now, when he thought about it. After all, when the "zombies" really came, they had been nothing like what that show had predicted.

Remina nodded. "I remember that at some point they opened the door a crack, only giving space for one zombie to poke his head in, and stabbed it."

"That's incredibly stupid," Wes argued. "At least, in this situation. Who knows how many there are out there!"

"Do you have any better ideas?" She asked angrily.

"No!" Wes replied.

"Then we're doing my idea!" She demanded. After a few seconds of staring at each other, Wes relented.

"Fine," He raised his arm, gripping his knife. "Ready when you are."

Remina counted to three before opening the door, just a crack. Instantly, a hand shot through, and with it, the rest of an infected. Wes would never really get used to these creatures. They looked so humanoid, and yet, not. Their skin was green, with bulging eyes. None of them had any hair, and their skin was cracked, most of them with entire chunks of their skin missing. Their pupils were dilated, completely covering their irises, making Wes think of demons.

With one quick motion, he brought his knife into the infected's head. It opened it's mouth, and blood started to pour out. Wes quickly pulled his knife out of it's skull, not wanting to look at it.

Another one quickly replaced it, and Wes started stabbing infected after infected. Remina had her back to the door, using her weight to make sure they didn't push the door open. The corpses started to pile up, making it harder for new ones to climb in. The smell was disastrous, and Wes tried to ignore the blood collecting at his feet.

Then Remina screamed.

Wes' head shot towards her, and his eyes widened. An infected had snuck up behind her and sunk it's teeth into her neck, and Wes could only watch as it bit off a large chunk of her skin. She crumbled.

"REMINA!" Wes screamed, bodyslamming the door. The pile of corpses prevented it from closing, but he'd jammed it well enough that it wouldn't move for a bit. All Wes could see was red as he grabbed the infected by the throat and sunk his knife into it's head, repeatedly.

He only calmed down when he felt tugging on his pants. He looked down to see Remina, blood pouring out of her mouth as she looked up at him. He instantly dropped down next to her, and started cradling her.

"It's going to be alright," He whispered as he started caressing her hair, tears pouring out of his eyes. "You're going to be alright."

They both knew it was a lie. If she somehow survived having half her throat torn off, she'd still be infected. She was going to die, and Wes was powerless to stop it.

Remina tried to say something, but only chocked on her own blood. The sound broke Wes' heart. Weakly, she brought her hand to his heart, and then to her's, leaving a bloody handprint on both of their shirts. Wes got the message.

"I love you too," He cried as he cradled her. He brought his lips to her forehead, and by the time he had pulled away, she was dead.

Ugly sobs racked his body as he held her, hugging her tightly to his body. Everything else melted away. All that mattered was that she, the woman he loved, was dead. He couldn't believe it. 

Then he felt a searing pain in his leg.

He instantly turned his head, and screamed. An infected had it's mouth clamped onto his calf, sinking it's teeth into his flesh. He scrambled for his knife, screaming, as the bite got deeper and deeper, causing more and more pain.

By the time he burrowed his knife in it's skull, blood was pouring out of his leg. He ripped open the infected's jaw and threw it off of him, before screaming again. He instantly looked at the door, to see if any more were coming, as he was sure that was where this one had come from. Sure enough, the door had been pushed open, giving more than enough space for an infected to make it's way through.

He couldn't see anything, and the adrenaline kicked in as he desperately tried to patch up his wound. Throwing his shirt off, he ripped part of the fabric off and made a makeshift bandage, a skill Matthew had taught him a while back. Trying to ignore the pain and the urge to vomit, he shakily got to his feet.

Hooking his arms under her body, Wes gingerly picked Remina off the ground. Throwing her corpse over his shoulder, Wes limped out of the warehouse. He didn't have time to think. All he knew was that he needed to get back to camp, and quickly.

Every step sent pain shooting up his body as he navigated his way through the small forest encircling the warehouse. He could feel his own blood running down his leg, as his shirt wasn't nearly absorbent enough to stop it. At one point, he picked a stick off the ground to bite, to stop himself from screaming.

It wasn't too long before he got to the motorcycle that they had arrived here on, hidden behind a bush. Tying Remina down to the back seat with some rope and leaning her against him, Wes revved up the engine. Thankfully, driving was a hell of a lot easier than walking.

He kept his eyes on the road, trying not to think about the pain in his leg, or the corpse sitting behind him. The black asphalt that had used to make up the highway was cracked from non-repair, and if you weren't careful, you could drive over a fallen road sign. 

Camp wasn't that far away, and he easily had enough gas to get there. He passed a few infecteds, but there was no way they could outrun a motorcycle, thankfully. Still, the sight of them made Wes uneasy, and angry. They had done this to him, to Remina. As he watched their black eyes follow him as they staggered, he felt a desire to drive his knife into their skulls. he couldn't imagine becoming one.

He pulled off the highway and onto the bumpy trail that led to camp. The blood loss was getting to him, and it took everything he had not to let his eyes droop. By the time camp started to come into sight, Wes was just about ready to fall off the bike.

The metal gates were already open, no doubt because the guards had heard him coming; the motorcycle wasn't exactly quiet, after all, especially now, seeing as the highway was abandoned. He sped in, before coming to a stop. 

People instantly came rushing towards him. Wes stumbled off the bike, before dropping to his knees. As he lay on the grassy ground, the only thing he could focus on was Remina; her glassy eyes, her bloodstained features, the giant hole in her neck, the green that was starting to spread through her veins. She was almost unrecognizable.

His eyelids started to close, and this time, Wes didn't try and stop them. He was vaguely aware of people yelling, and someone touching him, slapping his face maybe? With Remina's face the last thing in his mind, Wes finally succumbed to his injury, and passed out.


	2. The Return

His eyes opened shakily.

The light of the room hurt his eyes, and he thre his arm across them with a groan. When his eyes finally adjusted, Wes surveyed the room.

He was lying in a bed, shirtless. The walls were white, with a door and a window. The window was open, and the black curtains billowed in the wind. The only other items in the room was a cabinet and a few chairs.

Wes instantly recognized where he was; the Medical Room. For a few seconds, he was confused. Why was he here?

Then the memories came rushing back.

Wes threw the blanket off him, hyperventilating. His pants were gone, and his calf was wrapped in gauze. He touched his cast gingerly, which sent pain coursing up his leg. Wes barely stopped himself from crying out.

He leaned against the headboard, a tear rolling down his cheek.  _Remina._  He couldn't get the image of her lifeless face out of his head. After everything they'd been through together, he couldn't believe that she was gone.

He heard the door open, and his head shot up. Matthew, the group's doctor, was standing at the doorway, a roll of gauze in his hands. 

"You're awake!" Matthew smiled. "Good. I was starting to get worried."

He pulled up one of the chairs and sat down next to Wes. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Wes groaned.

"Well, you have been through a lot," Matthew said comfortingly. "Just try to relax. I'm going to change your bandage, okay?"

Wes nodded. He and Matthew weren't the best of friends, but they knew each other well enough. Wes trusted him enough to let him do whatever he thought was best for Wes' injury.

Matthew started removing his bandage. Wes sat upright, and watched. Mainly, he just wanted to know how far the disease had spread. Maybe, if it hadn't spread that far, they could amputate it without killing him.

Wes almost had to look away when Matthew had finished. The bite had scabbed, but it was disgusting to see, and smelled horrible.

But as he looked at it, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"How long have I been out?" He asked.

"Four days," Matthew replied as he started re-bandaging his wound.

 _Four days?_  That was more than enough time for the virus to start to spread. When David had been bitten, it had spread so quickly that it had consumed half his leg in less than a day. Wes still remembered how panicked David had looked as the virus crept up his body, turning more and more of his skin and veins green. He shuddered at the memory.

"Why hasn't the virus spread?" Wes asked, giving Matthew a quizzical look.

The doctor pursed his lips. "I don't know."

Wes felt stupid for asking. Of  _course_  he didn't know. He may have been a doctor before the breakout, but no medical studies had been performed on the virus in time. Matthew was as in the dark about it as he was.

"So, you're muscle's been torn a little," Matthew started to explain as he finished. "It's not that bad, and will heal quickly. Until then, you should use a crutch."

"Okay," Wes replied. "Thanks."

"No problem," Matthew smiled at him, before leaving the room.

Wes looked out the window. It was a sunny day, and a few children were playing soccer, using rocks as nets. The sight brought a slight smile to his lips; there weren't many children here, but the few that were gave him hope. The human race would keep on, despite the horrible tragedy that had befallen it. He just wouldn't be there to see it.

He laid back down. He'd never really thought about death before, but now it seemed to be all he could think about. Would it be painful? Was there an afterlife? Wes had never been a very religious man, but he hoped that there was one. If he could see David and Remina again, maybe dying would be worth it.

He noticed that Matthew had left him a crutch, leaning against the wall beside his bed. He slowly pulled himself out of bed, using it as a support. With its help, he barely felt any pain. Matthew was right; it wasn't that bad.

He hobbled out of the house. His group had found shelter in an abandoned kid's camp. It had been one for younger kids, so it was quite small, and had a wooden fence surrounding it. But to them, it was heaven; it provided shelter against the infecteds, and the cabins and mess hall gave them a place to sleep. Heck, there was even a generator located in a shed, and if they could get it to work, they'd also have electricity.

A few people asked him how he was doing, and he told them. Everyone knew everyone here, seeing as there were only twenty people in the entire group. They weren't like the others around them, that had up to three hundred members; then again, that had made them an easy target.

Wes shuddered at the thought. One of the surrounding groups, one that had at least fifteen men for every one of their's, had shown up, demanding food. They'd had no choice but to give them what they asked for, and as a reward, they'd destroyed their gardens. If they came back, which Wes was sure they would, they'd have nothing to give them. Wes could only hope that some people had gone back to the warehouse; it was their only hope.

"Glad to see you back on your feet."

Wes turned, and saw Keith, the group's leader. The dark-skinned man had a shovel in his hands, apparently taking a break from replanting the gardens. Thank God it was spring.

"I'm glad to be back," Wes joked, bringing a slight smile to the man's lips.

Keith put his hand on Wes' shoulder, and the atmosphere changed. "Would you like to say goodbye?"

Wes' smile dropped, and he nodded. Keith turned, and Wes started to follow him. Thankfully, the shorter man kept a slow pace.

He stopped at a spot halfway down the path leading to the road. Ash blanketed the ground near Wes' feet, along with a few pieces of charred wood. "Take all the time you need."

Wes nodded, and Keith patted him on the shoulder before leaving.

They used to bury people. But after David had turned, and Wes had put him out of his misery, they had run into a significant obstacle while digging his grave; a hoard of twenty-two infecteds. They'd barely managed to kill them all.

At first, everyone had been confused; they weren't making that much noise. Then someone came up with a theory; that the smell of infecteds attracted other ones, as they were more powerful in hoards. No one could prove that they'd been right, but the possibility scared everyone. And now, they burned people a while away from camp, just to be safe.

Keith didn't have to tell Wes; he already knew. These were Remina's ashes. Somehow, the sight made it seem more real, as it finally sunk in. She was gone. The woman he'd loved was dead.

Tears started pouring from his eyes. He was grateful that they'd done it near the forest; Remina had always loved nature. They used to take long strolls through it, on their time off from gardening or building or whatever else was needed around camp. One time, they'd woven flowers in each other's hair there. It was one of his favorite memories.

"Goodbye, Remina," He whispered through his tears. He saw some dandelions growing in the ground, and laid them in the ashes. They may not have been the prettiest flowers, but they were all he had.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he started making his way back to camp.

It was almost noon by now. The Californian sun beat down on him, and he started getting worried that he'd get burned. That was the most common injury among them; there wasn't any sunscreen anymore. 

When he got back to camp, it was break. Everyone had a set schedule here; eat, work, break, work, eat, sleep. Keith was in charge of keeping track of time, blowing his whistle every time something was over.

Wes wobbled over to Matthew, who was reading. The doctor looked up.

"Good to see you up," he smiled. "How painful is it?"

"I barely feel anything," Wes replied truthfully.

Matthew's face lit up. "Then it's even better than I expected!"

Neither of them brought up the obvious; that it didn't matter. The virus would kill him far before his leg healed. That is, if the virus spread.

Wes sat down beside Matthew. He hadn't thought about it, but now he was. Why hadn't the virus started to spread? David's had spread immediately. Remina's neck had already begun to turn green, and she died quickly. If it's been four days, Wes should have _turned_  by now. But he hadn't.

"How many people have you seen turn?" Wes asked him. If anyone would know anything, it was Matthew. He was the one who looked after people after they'd gotten bitten, making sure they'd be as comfortable as possible before their unpreventable demise.

Matthew shut his book, his expression somber. "Six."

"What was the longest time before one changed?" Wes asked.

Matthew furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. "Three days, I believe."

"Three?" Wes asked.

Matthew turned to him. "Yes. You're setting a record, Wes."

"How big was the guy who took three days?" Wes asked.

"Smaller than you, by an inch or two," Matthew replied. "I assume that body mass does have something to do with it. Could be why it's taking you so long."

"But it should have started to spread by now, at the very least," Wes replied, "Right?"

Matthew nodded.

"Then why hasn't mine started to spread?"

Matthew's expression turned grim. "Wes, I don't know."

"You don't have any ideas? Not a single theory?"

"I have one," Matthew took a deep breath. "Back in my old group, a rumor went around that someone was immune."

" _Immune?_ " Wes' eyes widened.  _Was that even possible?_

Matthew nodded. "There was no proof, so don't get your hopes up. It's why I didn't tell you right away."

"And what happened to them?" Wes asked. "What happened to the immune person?"

Matthew's expression turned stony. "I don't even want to think of it. I hope it was just a rumor. I really do."

Wes could tell that he wasn't going to tell him more. Still, his mind was racing. Could he really be immune? It seemed too good to be true, like something out of a fairy tale. Besides, what gave him the right to be immune, and not David or any of the billions of people who had fallen victim to the virus? What made him more worthy of life than them?

Wes took a deep breath. He didn't even have any proof that being immune was possible. It could've just been a rumor people started to make themselves feel better. People tended to do that.

He was going to die. The sooner he accepted that, the better. He wasn't going to end up like David, bang-

A noise broke off his train of thought.

Other people had noticed it too. Wes stood up. It had sounded like an engine, and not of a motorcycle; of a car. Everyone knew who it was.

"Open the gates!" Keith cried. The guards did as he asked, climbing off the wall and hastily undoing the lock. People cleared out of the way, making a broad path in front of the gates.

A few minutes later, they arrived.

Five cars rushed in, skidding up dust behind them. Wes' heart was beating so quickly he was scared it was going to jump out of his chest, and he clutched his crutch tightly. The doors to the car opened, and out they climbed.

They were terrifying. Most of them held knives, but a few had guns, which had become so rare they were worth as much as gold at this point. Most of them Wes recognized from their last visit, except for a short purple-haired girl, who had a baseball bat wrapped around her shoulders. She caught him staring, and winked at him.

One of them cleared their throat, which brought everyone's attention to them. Even if Wes didn't already know, it was obvious that he was the leader. He held a machine gun in both hands, and had an eye-patch covering his eye. Wes doubted that he even needed one; he was probably just wearing it for aesthetic.

"Hello,  _allies_ ," The brown-haired man smiled, revealing a gold tooth. "We're here for our food!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be every Saturday and Sunday at 9:30 pm Pacific Time.


	3. Demands

For a few seconds, no one knew what to do, paralyzed with fear. They'd only just started replanting their gardens, and now their adversaries were back? If their gardens got destroyed again, there would be no way that they'd be able to finish replanting before Spring ended.

The leader shrugged his shoulders, turning around in a circle so he made eye contact with everyone. "Well?"

The first of them to get over their shock was Keith, which was good, seeing as he was their leader. "Uh, how much do you need?"

It wasn't like they had been given a number. The first time they'd been attacked, half of their rivals had burst into their storage and grabbed all of their cans, while the other's had trampled and dug up their gardens. At least, this time around, they were acting more dignified.

"Half of everything you have," The leader grinned, his gold tooth glimmering in the sunlight. "That won't be too much, will it?"

Even though it had been framed as a question, Wes knew it was a demand. He might of well have said,  _"give us half your food or I'll put a bullet through everyone's brain."_ Luckily, Keith detected the sinister undertones of the man's words as well.

"Of course not," He pointed at Monica and her wife, who were frozen in fear. "Vasandani's, can you please get our  _friends_  their food?"

The two women nodded, before sprinting off to storage. Wes watched their forms disappear into the shed, and wished he could join them. With his leg, he wouldn't be much good in a fight. And from what he'd seen of these people, it was just a matter of time before one broke out.

Wes turned his attention to their "guests". Most of them had significant muscle mass, and looked like they had been born with weapons in their hands. They looked terrifying, and it didn't help that most of them were grinning. Wes knew that no matter how many times he saw these people, they'd always unnerve him.

He didn't understand how they could do it. How they could just attack other groups, terrorize them, _kill_ them. Did they really have that little humanity left in them, that they took enjoyment in the pain of others?

There was dead silence as the two groups waited. Wes had a sinking feeling in his chest; he felt like something was about to go very, very wrong.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the purple-haired girl. Unlike most of her accomplices, who were surveying everyone, she was looking straight at him. He felt like her gaze was piercing him, and despite her height, he felt threatened. He didn't even want to know what she could do with that baseball bat.

He watched as she slid it off her shoulders and twirled it in her hands. Wes looked away from her, trying to calm his nerves. He was a pretty big guy, the tallest of everyone in his group, and the strongest. She probably saw him as a threat, and was making sure he didn't try anything. Right? Still, for some reason, the longer she stared at him, the more he felt the desire to run.

Then she moved. Dragging the bat on the ground behind her, she walked straight up to the leader. Wes watched as she brushed her hair out of the way and whispered something in his ear, before stepping back and giving Wes a smile. His stomach dropped.

"You there!" The leader pointed one of his guns at Wes' chest. "What happened to your leg?"

All eyes were on him now. Wes gulped. "I- I tore a muscle."

He didn't know  _why_  he lied, exactly. He just had a feeling that he should, like something terrible would happen to him if he told the truth. Truth be told, the words had just slipped out of his mouth; he'd barely thought about them.

"Did you now?" The man made a  _"tisk"_  noise with his tongue. "I hope you're not lying to me, boy."

Seeing as Wes at least five inches taller than that man, he felt like  _son_  wasn't the best word that man could've used to describe him. Still, the threat was anything but funny.

"I'm not," Wes lied, hoping he sounded confident, when in reality he wanted to climb under a rock and never resurface.

"Take off your bandage then," The girl spoke. Her tone was playful, like this was all a big game, and she was winning. "Prove it."

_Shit._

He desperately racked his brain, trying to come up with an escape plan, to no avail. Seeing no way out, Wes leaned over, and rolled up his pant leg. He shakily pulled at the knot, letting the gauze fall to his feet, revealing his wound to everyone. 

He heard some gasps, and saw some people covering their mouths with their hands. He could only imagine how shocking it must be for them, seeing his injury, and how his body was treating it like it was just a normal, human bite. Everyone had seen someone turn at this point, and to see someone be completely unaffected by one, was far from the ordinary.

"Told you," The purple-haired girl smiled at the leader, who threw his arm around her shoulder and ruffled up her hair with his gun.

"Impressive," The leader whistled. "You really are as skilled as you said you were."

Wes' heart was beating erratically. What did she tell him? And what did it have to do with him?

The leader pointed his gun at Keith, who tensed up. Wes took in a sharp breath. "You didn't tell me you had an immune among you!"

Wes' heart skipped a beat. If this man did anything to his friend, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

Keith's expression was one of pure panic, and he threw his hands in the air. "I- I swear, I didn't know. I didn't even know immunity existed!"

"I'm sure you didn't," The leader turned to Wes, and smiled, an evil, sinister smile that made Wes either want to punch him in the face or run. Possibly both. "You shouldn't have lied to me, boy."

Time seemed to freeze. Wes watched in horror as the leader tightened his finger around the trigger, and a bullet flew out of the gun's chamber. Wes had just enough time to see the terror painted on Keith's face before it embedded itself in his temple, exiting through the back of his head. Keith crumpled.

Screams filled the air, and Wes' was one of them. He tried to rush to Keith's side, but his leg gave out under him before he could even take one step. He crashed to the ground, but he barely registered the pain, as he was so focused on getting to Keith. He started to crawl, dragging his legs behind him like they were deadweights as he desperately tried to reach Keith.

Hands clasped around his arms, stopping him in his tracks, and hauled him to his feet. He felt someone's warm breath on his neck, and turned to see the purple-haired girl, holding his hands behind his back firmly, looking down at them. Before he even had the chance to struggle, he heard a soft click, and to his horror, discovered that she had placed him in handcuffs.

She shoved him forwards roughly, forcing him to his knees. He watched as she walked back to her leader, her baseball bat in one hand and a key in the other, twirling it around her finger before pocketing it.

The second she rested her elbow on the leader's shoulder, the Vasandanis emerged from the shed, each holding a side of a cardboard box filled with cans. They stopped in their tracks the second they saw the scene, and Wes couldn't blame them; he was still in shock, and he'd seen everything happen.

The leader made some sort of hand signal, and two of his men walked forwards and snatched the box out of the women's hands, before shoving it in the back of one of their trucks. Wes couldn't imagine how long it would take everyone to collect that many cans from the warehouse again, seeing as there only means of transportation was a motorcycle that was almost out of gas. If these people kept returning, they'd starve.

The leader turned around, making sure to make eye-contact with everyone, before pointing his gun at Wes' temple. Wes froze, and his eyes widened. "I hope no one minds that we'll be taking this one with us?"

Everyone was too scared to speak up, and for good reason. The purple haired girl grabbed his forearm, digging her nails into his skin, and hauled him to his feet. With a surprising show of strength, she started to drag him. Wes broke out of his shocked daze, and started struggling against her, before digging his heels into the ground. There was no way he was going with these people. Not after what they'd just done to Keith.

The girl sighed, and Wes had a feeling that she knew he was going to do that. She slid her baseball bat off her shoulder, and, before Wes could react, brought it down on the back of Wes' knees. Wes' legs buckled as he screamed in pain, and she used his moment of weakness to throw him into the back seat of one of the cars, before slamming the door shut. Wes tried to kick it open, but the door didn't budge.

Wes could only watch as the leader said a few more words to Wes' group, though he had no idea what he said. He could only imagine that it was something threatening. Hyperventilating, Wes struggled against his bonds. If there was one thing he hated, it was feeling trapped. But they wouldn't budge; it seemed like they were real handcuffs, the ones cops used to use. Suddenly, Wes wished he watched that youtube video he saw once on his dashboard about how to get out of handcuffs, instead of watching a vine compilation or whatever useless thing he had chosen instead.

People started climbing into the car. The leader took the wheel, and a black-haired woman took shotgun. The purple-haired girl took the seat next to his, and gave him a bittersweet smile. It made him sick to his stomach. She was the one who had somehow knew he had been bitten, and that he was immune. She was the one who'd told the leader. It was her fault he was in this mess, and that Keith was dead.

 _Keith_. Hardworking, easy to offend, caring Keith. First David, then Remina, and now him? Wes didn't know how much of this he could take before he snapped. For the first time since the apocalypse had begun, Wes felt truly, utterly helpless.

Wes lurched forwards as the car began to move, almost slamming his head into the seat before him, as the girl hadn't bothered to do up his seatbelt. As the car made it's way out of the gates, Wes caught Matthew's eye. The doctor was crying, and Wes felt that it wasn't because of Keith; he had a sinking feeling it was because of him.

He remembered what the doctor had told him when he asked what happened to the immune person the doctor had heard about. Matthew had said that whatever it was, he hoped that it wasn't true. That it would be better if it was a rumor. 

In that moment, Wes wished Matthew had told him. Because now, as he sped away from the location and people he'd known for over a year now, most likely never to return, he had absolutely no idea what these people were going to do to him.

As he stared at the girl sitting next to him, the baseball bat that she had not hesitated to use on him resting on her lap, he couldn't imagine that it was going to be good.


	4. Ride

There was silence.

The purple-haired girl had rolled down the window, letting the cold wind blow through her hair and onto Wes' face. The two passengers in the front of the car weren't saying a word, keeping their eyes on the road.

After wiggling around in his restraints for a while, Wes gave up. He stared out the window, at the forest outside, wishing he could be running through it. For a while, the trees were familiar, from all the times he'd gone down this road on the motorcycle. It didn't take to long for them to look unfamiliar.

A tear rolled down his face. This had all happened so quickly. He couldn't believe that it had only been a day since he woke up. With Remina's death, figuring out he was immune, Keith's murder, and getting kidnapped, there was nothing Wes wanted to do more than curl up into a ball and sob. He hadn't felt this horribly since David had turned.

He needed to get out. Now.

His eyes racked the car, trying to find anything that could be of use to him. It was a small car, with very little room between the front and back seats. The leader had placed his guns on the dashboard, so there was no way Wes could reach those. There were a few knives in the cupholders, but those were too far away. From what he could see, there was nothing around him that could be of use.

Then his eyes trailed to the woman sitting next to him's pocket. The pocket that she had slipped the key into. It was a long shot, but he had to try.

Wes pulled his arms over his legs, so his hands were at the front of his body. He scooted closer to her, not really having a plan. Perhaps if he grabbed the baseball bat and hit her with it, he could grab it in the confusion, open the door, and slip out of the car. It was his best bet.

It happened faster than he could blink. Her hand shot to her side, and next thing he knew, she had stabbed the leather seat, barely a centimeter away from his hands. She hadn't even turned her head to look at him.

"Don't even think about it," She stated mundanely, pulling the blade out of the seat. The leader looked at them in the rear-view mirror, and chuckled. Wes' cheeks burned.

He inched away from her, and leaned against the door, feeling the vibrations through the car. He'd lost all hope of escaping the car. He sighed, defeatedly, and stared out the window. He felt like this would be the closest thing he'd get to freedom for a long time.

• • •

They'd been driving for an hour when they pulled off the highway.

Wes sat up, his interest peaked. It wasn't anything like the bumpy path leading to his camp; it was made of smooth concrete, just like the road.

They seemed to be in a small town. Run down houses passed by him quickly, barely giving him enough time to take in their appearances. However, Wes had seen enough boarded-up homes with graffiti spray painted on them and broken glass littering their yards to know what they looked like.

Still, it gave Wes an uneasy feeling. Seeing an urban area completely deserted gave him the chills. It just seemed so... unnatural, without all the people and cars. Like a forest filled completely with stumps, the trees long forgotten.

They kept driving, and Wes started to wonder where they were going. Cities weren't a good place for camps; they attracted attention, both from other survivors and infecteds. They were hard to protect, and hard to manage. Almost everyone avoided them, stragglers and groups alike.

To Wes' surprise, they drove out of the city as soon as they'd driven in. He looked out the front window, and instantly saw where they were going.

A large factory towered over them. It was a simple factory, a gray, rectangular shaped building with a few stacks lining the top, though they weren't releasing any smoke. As they got nearer, Wes noticed a fence around it, which was probably used in the time before to keep out trespassers. A few infecteds were clawing at it, and Wes watched as a young man walked over and started stabbing them through the chain links.

They stopped for a few seconds, waiting for the gates to open. After the young man had noticed them and unlocked the gate, they sped in quickly. Wes eagerly looked out the window, trying to learn as much about these people as he could. If he ever ended up escaping, he'd need to know as much about this building as possible.

The area between the fence and the factory was practically deserted, save for a few kids playing hacky-sack with what looked like a rolled-up sock. The sight seemed out of place to Wes; how could children, the most innocent members of the human race, be associated with these... monsters? It seemed almost impossible.

Then they drove into the building, and the car came to a stop. From what he could see, they were in a parking lot. There were a few other cars in the room, scattered around in spaces randomly. What shocked Wes the most, however, where the blinking lights above their heads; this place had power.

The purple-haired girl unlocked and opened the door, and the other two passengers followed suit. Wes had to sit there awkwardly as the girl walked around and opened his door, before pulling him out. Wes almost fell over, and a shooting pain ran up his leg. The girl steadied him.

She stared up at him. Now that they were so close, Wes could really make out her features. She was pretty, with Asian features and a perfectly symmetrical face. Even the scowl that she had painted on her mouth didn't make her look unattractive; quite oppositely so. But she had this aura to her, in the way she held herself, that just oozed strength and confidence; and that was the most attractive thing about her by far.

Wes quickly shook his head, trying to break off his thoughts. He felt disgusted with himself. This girl was a monster, someone who had gotten him in this predicament and had a direct hand in Keith's death.. He shouldn't feel anything for her but hate and anger, let alone attraction.

"Try anything and I'll give you a real reason not to be able to stand," She growled. Her words sent shivers down his spine; he'd seen how quick she'd been with that knife, and had already felt the blow of her bat, which she had leaning on her shoulder.

She threw up her hand, and the leader threw her a chain. It was one of those flimsy ones, which could break easily, but Wes knew that its real purpose was to emasculate him, not effectively chain him up. She clicked it onto his handcuffs, and tugged. Not wanting to piss her off, Wes let her lead him.

The four of them exited the parking lot, and entered a much larger room. It was obvious that this was where most of the people were. There must've been at least a hundred in the room, and they all seemed to be busy. A group of people sat at a table in the back, sewing. Others were handing out food, making Wes wonder how a group of this side handled their rations. A few were tinkering around with metal, though Wes had no idea what they were doing. No one seemed to notice their presence, and they exited quickly.

Now Wes was getting worried; where were they taking him? Did factories have jail cells? Did they make one? How small would it be?

What did they even want with him?

Wes froze for a few seconds, and the girl tugged on his handcuffs. What _did_ they want with him? He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts before, he hadn't even stopped to ask himself that simple question. What could they possibly want with an immune?

Were they jealous of him, and want to see him suffer? Did they believe he had some kind of healing power, like Jesus? Where would they have even gotten that notion from? It wasn't like the existence of immunes was common knowledge, and there definitely wasn't much contact between groups.

They led him into another room, this one even bigger than the last. It looked strangely familiar at first, the assembly lines and technology surrounding him. Then he remembered that tour he'd taken of a factory with his fourth-grade-glass, right after reading "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory".

_He was in a chocolate factory._

Wes almost laughed at the irony. Ever since he'd been a young boy, Wes had always loved chocolate. Heck, he'd had a borderline addiction to it. When he'd joined the Army, he'd gone through straight-up  _withdrawal_  during training. He hadn't had a chocolate bar in years.

And here he was, about to be locked up somewhere and possibly killed in a place that produced one of his favorite things. That was some straight-up _Shakespearian_ shit.

The girl led him through the lines of equipment, and stopped in front of an empty plastic container, which looked like it could be tipped over. He assumed it had been used for pouring chocolate, before it hardened. it was a couple of feet in the air, high enough that a fall from it would seriously hurt.

The other woman climbed up onto one of the assembly lines. She grabbed a hooked stick off the ground, and hooked the top of the container. She pushed it down towards them, where the leader grabbed the bottom and turned it upside-down, before looking at Wes. The girl tugged Wes towards him.

"Stand still," She ordered him. Wes didn't see a choice, and did as she asked. The leader pulled the container towards Wes, and lowered it over him, before letting go.

It happened quickly. The container snapped upright, tossing Wes inside it, before going back to it's starting position high in the air. The woman pressed a button on the bottom of the container.

The leader helped the girl to the ground, before the two of them left. the purple-haired girl looked at him for a few seconds, and Wes looked down at her. It was almost like she was examining him, and, for a few seconds, Wes saw something in her eyes that he couldn't quite read. Pity, maybe? Guilt?

"Mari!" Wes recognized the leader's voice. The girls head snapped towards the exit. "What's the hold-up?"

"Give me a sec, Ian!" She called back, quickly turning around and sprinting after her accomplices. Wes watched her go, her purple hair swaying behind her. So her name was Mari. It was a pretty name, for such a violent person.

The second she left, Wes threw his body weight against the side of the container a few times, but all that gained him was a sore shoulder and an even worse pain in his leg. He was trapped, at least ten feet in the air, in a plastic tube-shaped container.

All the emotions he'd been trying to keep inside flooded into his brain. He couldn't help himself. He curled up into a ball on the ground, and started to weep. For his group. For Remina. For Keith. For himself.

He wept until he ran out off tears, and just laid there, on the ground. Every once in awhile, someone would walk through the room, and stare at him, making Wes feel like a zoo animal. To keep himself preoccupied, he focused on the sounds he could hear the other people in the factory making; laughter, conversation, clanging. Trying to ignore his dry throat and rumbling stomach, Wes slowly drifted off to sleep, terrified at the prospect of what would happen to him tomorrow.


	5. Hope

Wes rarely had nightmares.

Before the bomb was dropped, he'd never had a single one. Of course, everyone had one the night in began. Seeing New York in flames on their T.V screens, wondering if their city was next, if they would be drafted, if this was the start of another world war... those thoughts had scared the  _shit_  out of Wes. 

Then, of course, when the virus was brought to America from England during a rations drop off, and the first infected was spotted in Seattle; that night hadn't been a good one for the then-sixteen-year-old. But, as far as Wes could recollect, that had been his last one.

Until now.

He watched David, clawing at his own throat, trying to rip off his skin as the virus crept closer and closer to his brain. Wes couldn't move, and was forced to watch as his friend slowly killed himself.

Then he was on the ground, and Remina, completely turned, was slowly eating him alive while he screamed. Keith watched, a hole in his forehead, as blood trickled down his face. It was horrible, and felt so  _real_ , that Wes wasn't even sure he was dreaming.

Then Keith's mouth opened, and expelled a very feminine-sounding _"shut up!"_

Wes shot awake, sweat covering his whole body, breathing heavily. The purple-haired girl- Mari, he remembered -was hitting the plastic tube with a stick while screaming those two words. When she saw that he was awake, she dropped the stick.

"Finally," She rolled her eyes. "Some of us are to trying to sleep, you know, so if you could keep the screaming down, that would be great."

"Sorry," Wes mumbled, on instinct. He almost slapped himself. Did he just  _apologize_ to her, the girl who had _kidnapped_ him?

Before he could correct himself, she was gone, disappearing through the door, leaving him alone in the darkness. He laid back down, but now that he wasn't tired, he could tell how hard the floor of the container was. He had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep for a long time.

• • •

By the time the lights flickered on, Wes had given up on trying to fall asleep. The generator must be on some sort of time-system, tuning on at determined time frames, if that was even possible with generators; Wes honestly had no idea. If he did, he would've been able to get the one at camp working.

_Camp._

He wondered how his group was doing, with Keith's death and his absence. Who would be their next leader? Monica? Matthew? Would they even have one? What was their food situation? How were the gardens doing? There was nothing Wes wanted more than to be back with them, helping them figure it out. Instead, he was here, utterly useless to everyone but the group that had imprisoned him, though he still didn't know what use they could possibly have for him.

He heard the sound of footsteps, and looked up. Mari was walking towards him, a water bottle and can of beans in her hands. He watched her climb up onto the assembly line.

"Are you my caretaker now?" He asked her as she tossed the items into his container. Luckily, he managed to catch both of them before they hit his head.

She snorted. "Not for long."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wes asked.

"We're going to kill you tonight," She replied, like she was telling him the weather. "Enjoy your last meal."

Wes' eyes widened. "What?!"

But she was already leaving, and didn't turn around at his words, leaving him in shock. They were going to kill him. _Tonight._

Why did they even bring him here, then, if their big plan was to kill him? They could've easily put a bullet through his brain at camp, just like they'd done to Keith. And why did it matter that he was immune?  
  
Wes buried his head in his hands. What had he done to deserve this? He'd already lost everyone he loved, and now he was going to die here, alone. He liked to think that he'd been a good man; he'd done some charity work, always gave money to the homeless when he saw them begging, had joined the army to try and help his country. If there indeed was a divine force out there, he had no idea what he'd done to piss it off.

Wes ate the beans and drank the water quickly, finally quenching his needs. For hours, he was left alone, with nothing but his thoughts. He leaned against the back of the tube, observing the room, trying to spot little details of the machines and imagining how they'd worked in the time before, listening to the sounds of the people in the rooms outside his. Anything to keep his mind off his impending doom.

Then the sounds stopped. If Wes had to guess, he'd say that they'd gone outside for lunch. With the number of people and weaponry this group had, he speculated that they didn't care how much noise they made or how many infecteds they attracted; they could fight off anything. He hoped that it would be their doom.

A half-hour or so later, Wes heard their voices again, and assumed they were going back to work. To say he was shocked when hundreds of people swarmed into the room from the two doors on either side of it was an understatement. By the time people stopped entering, the room was filled, and everyone was packed like sardines.

Standing under him was the leader, or Ian, as he had heard Mari call him last night. In a way, he didn't want to know the man's name; it humanized him, in a way. And Wes didn't want to think of him as anything more than the monster he was.

Ian cleared his throat, and everyone stopped talking. He gestured up at Wes.

"I'm sure you're all wondering who our guest is," Ian grinned, hooking his arm around Mari's shoulder and pulling her to his side. "Well, I'm glad to announce that Mari has _finally_  done what she'd promised us she would; find an immune!"

Gasps arose from the crowd, like this was the most astonishing thing they've ever heard. A lot of them cheered. Wes' face burned; he hated this. He hated being ogled at like he was some sort of prize. He hated being trapped. If he could break out of this thing and strangle everyone in this room, he was sure he would have.

"Everyone who had met their work quotas will be able to participate in the drink, and maybe a few others if they're lucky," Ian shouted. "He's a big man; there'll be enough blood for most of us. And then, we will all be immune!"

Everyone cheered this time, a long, excited cheer. People were jumping up and down, throwing their fists in the air, kissing each other like it was New Years. For a few seconds, Wes was confused; what the _hell_  was this man talking about?

Then his eyes widened, and all the blood rushed out of his face. _Drink. Blood._

They were going to _drink his blood._  If Wes wasn't so terrified, he would've laughed at the thought of it. It seemed like something out of a Science Fiction novel, or Twilight. But this was real; the people in front of him- the hundreds of people -were cheering at the fact that they would drink his blood, because they believed it would make them immune.

He felt like throwing up. In the past two years, he'd seen some terrifying, gruesome, disgusting things, but nothing came close to this display of absolute lack of humanity. 

Then he spotted a raven-haired man with glasses, standing near the back of the room. Unlike everyone else in the room, who looked like they were happiest people on earth, he looked sad. It was a glaring contrast to the rest of the people in the room, which made him stand out. When he noticed that Wes was looking at him, he instantly looked at the floor.

"Yes, yes, I know, very exciting," Ian shouted, silencing everyone. "But the drink hasn't started yet! Get back to work!"

The effect was immediate. People rushed out of the room, off to do whatever task they had been assigned. The last to leave was Ian, his arm wrapped around the black-haired woman's shoulders, and Mari. Wes noticed that the second Ian looked away, to kiss the other woman's neck, Mari's smile dropped.

Then he was alone.

He buried his head in his hands. How where they going to do it? Would they kill him first, and squash him like an orange in a squeezer? Would they hang him upside down like a sacrificial goat, and slit his throat, having his blood flow into a bowl on the ground as he choked? Would they mix his blood with sugar or alcohol, or would they drink it raw?

That was when Wes laughed. A full, loud laugh that echoed in the empty room, making him sound like a lunatic. He laughed until his throat hurt, making him wish he'd preserved some of the water.

Then he started to cry. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he leaned back against the tube. There had to be some way out. There  _had_  to be.

He stood up, and slapped the sides. Turning in a full circle, he body-slammed the plastic, hoping to get it to budge. When that didn't work, he started trying to climb out, taking as much of a running jump as he could. But the walls were too high and far apart, and there was nothing to use as a handhold. Wes was trapped.

He slid down the wall. Out of tears, out of voice, out of hope. He found himself wishing that they'd hurry up, to kill him faster; being left alone here, with nothing but his thoughts, was torture.

Then he heard the sounds of footsteps.

He looked up, expecting to see Mari, or Ian. Instead, he saw the raven-haired man, walking towards him. His eyebrows scrunched up; what the _hell_  was this man doing here?

The man climbed up onto the assembly line, and pulled a lever on the bottom of the container. Wes looked at him in amazement as he realized what the man was doing; he was breaking him out.

The man grabbed the stick, and hooked it onto the top of the container. He pulled, and to Wes' delight, pulled the container down to his level, before tipping it over. Wes stumbled out, landing on the assembly line, before the man let go, and the container sprung back up. Wes almost kissed the conveyer belt beneath him, grateful to be out of that prison.

"Thank you," Wes barely suppressed the urge to hug the man. "Thank you so much."

"You don't have much time," The man extended his hand, and Wes took it, letting him haul him to his feet. "You have to go. I can't help you much past this point."

Suddenly, Wes felt suspicious. Who was this man, and what reason could he possibly have to help him?

"Who are you?" He asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"My name's Joven," The man's eyes welled up. "My wife was immune, too. I didn't help her then, but I'm not going to make the same mistake again. If you exit through the left door, you'll be able to exit the factory. But you have to go. Now!"

"What about you?" Wes asked. Surely, someone would be able to put two and two together, and find out what this man was doing. He couldn't even imagine what the consequences would be for an act like this.

"I'm ready to see my wife again," Joven replied, pushing up his glasses. "Now go!"

Wes took one look at the man's facial expression, and thought about what would happen if he was caught. It didn't take him that long to make his decision.

"Thank you," Wes replied, before jumping off the assembly line. He was going to get the hell out of here.


	6. Escape

It hurt.

He'd been inside that container for almost twenty-four hours, and his muscles cramped up immediately. To make it even better, his leg hadn't healed; something which he'd completely forgotten about.

He crouched on the ground for a couple of seconds, trying to gather the strength to stand. He could feel Joven's eyes on him, and couldn't even imagine what the other man was thinking. Wes felt stupid, and he was sure he looked the part, too.

Eventually, Wes managed to climb to his feet, using the assembly line as a support. He stretched his legs out a bit, before starting to run. Every step shot pain running up his leg, but Wes gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. He had many things to worry about at the moment, and his leg was the least of them.

He took Joven's advice, and ran to the left door. He took one look behind him, and saw Joven exiting through the other door. He wished the other man good luck in his head, and exited the room.

He found himself in a hallway, littered with cardboard boxes. A few doors peppered the walls, but there was one that stood out; a garage door, to his left.

Wes ran over to it, crouching down. There were no handles, and Wes couldn't see a button that would open it. He grappled at the bottom, trying to force his fingers under the cold metal.

Eventually, he got a hold. Using all his strength, he pulled the door up just enough for him to slipe under it. He slid it back down quietly, making sure to make as little noise as possible, before turning to the courtyard.

The smell of fresh air was refreshing. For the past two years, Wes had spent most of his time outside, be it while working in the gardens or tying himself to trees with David, in the very beginning. But after spending all that time inside, breathing in the stale air of the factory, this was a refreshing difference. It felt like he was tasting freedom.

Much to his relief, the courtyard was deserted. However, Wes was sure that there would be guards somewhere; with a group of this size, it wouldn't make sense if there weren't any. He stood still, listening.

He could hear voices, but they all seemed to be coming from inside the factory; from one room, from the sounds of it. If Wes had to guess, he'd say that they were celebrating something; and he had a shaky feeling that he knew what that _something_  was. 

He shakily rose to his feet, all his senses on high alert. Joven hadn't given him any explanation on what to do now, and Wes had no idea what his next actions should be. If there were any guards on duty, then Wes was fucked. 

Which left him with only one option, really; making a run for it. There wasn't anything to hide behind; the courtyard consisted of a long stretch of asphalt, and nothing else. It was a huge risk, and Wes didn't like the odds. But unless he wanted to become this group's water jug, he had no choice.

Taking a deep breath, Wes took off. He was acutely aware of the sound his feet made as they hit the ground, and all his senses were on high alert. Once he was close enough, he jumped onto the fence, making a clanging noise that sounded as loud as a gunshot to him.

Trying not to think about it, Wes hauled himself up the chainlink fence. It wasn't easy; the metal pressed into his hands, and it was hard to find a foothold. Miraculously, Wes got to the top, and tumbled off the fence. He landed on his back, and while it hurt, he didn't feel nearly as much pain as he did when he'd jumped off the assembly line.

He took one last look at the factory. The building was terrifying in the dark, like something out of a horror movie. It loomed over him, and the sight sent shivers down Wes' spine. He quickly checked to see if anyone had seen him, and when he was sure no one had, he turned. Getting to his feet, Wes started to run, determined to get away from the place where he had been imprisoned. If he was lucky, he'd never return.

As he did, he surveyed his surroundings, looking for possible hiding spots. The woods that surrounded camp was nowhere to be seen, and the factory was surrounded by empty plains. To make matters worse, Wes spotted infecteds among them, almost blending in with the beige grass.

Which left him with only one option; the city. From there, he'd be able to find the road, which would lead him to the forest. Not seeing any other options, Wes took off towards the city, slowing his pace down to preserve his energy. He felt like he would be doing a lot of moving in the time to come, and being exhausted wouldn't help him much.

There was no way they hadn't noticed his absence by now. Wes realized that he couldn't stay on the road; they'd be coming soon, with their cars, to track him down. He veered off, into the grasslands, running towards the city.

Sure enough, the sounds of engines rang out soon. Wes ducked into the grass, his heart pounding; what if they had seen him? Infecteds didn't run, making it impossible for them to assume he was one of them. But as the engines grew quieter with each second, Wes realized with relief that he'd slipped by unnoticed; for now.

He finally reached the city. He sprinted across the road, grabbing onto the doorhandle of the first house he encountered. Much to his luck, it was unlocked, and he quickly entered.

Afer he'd shut the door, he observed his surroundings. He was in a decent house, which had probably belonged to a well-off family in the time before. It sort of reminded him of his parent's house, though the broken glass from the living room window and the smashed lights ruined the effect.

But Wes wasn't here to stay; he just wanted supplies. It would be a long journey back to camp, and he'd need everything he could get. 

He made his way to the house's kitchen, only to find it thoroughly looted. Cabinet doors were thrown open, chairs were turned on their sides, cutlery littered the ground. Wes knew there was no point in checking if the looters had missed anything; they'd obviously been thorough. However, he picked up one of the steak knives from the ground. It was the closest thing to a weapon he had, and if there was one thing he'd learned over the last two years, it was always to have a weapon on you.

He pocketed the knife and started to exit the house. As he reached for the doorhandle, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Before he could react, he felt teeth begin to sink into his shoulder.

Wes reacted on instinct, grabbing the infected's jaw and forcing it open, before stabbing it in the eye. For a few seconds, he was panicking; he'd been bitten, and in a spot close to his brain. It would only be a matter of time before-

Then he remembered, and relief washed over him. He was immune. The only thing he had to fear from infecteds was the damage their bites could do, not what their disease would. There was no reason for him to panic; it wasn't a deep bite, and it was barely bleeding. He could move his arm without feeling any pain. He exited the house, hoping to find some something useful in the next house, and hopefully  _not_  another infected.

After checking the next three, and finding not as much as a can of soup, Wes lost hope. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes so high, he realized. This town was located right next to a group's base. Of _course_ the city was looted. Now Wes was hungry, _and_ he felt like an idiot. He was off to a great start.

He made his way down the deserted streets. The place was even more unnerving up close than it had been from the car. Boards covered almost every window and door. Glass littered the streets. Worst of all, the corpses of infecteds seemed to be everywhere, staring at him with black, empty eyes. The sight made Wes want to crawl out of his skin.

He couldn't have made it back to the main road fast enough. He stood still, listening for car engines. The wind rustled through his hair, but besides that, Wes couldn't hear anything. In a way, he wished he had. Cities shouldn't be this silent. It seemed... unnatural, in a way. He didn't like it.

Once he determined the coast was clear, he started walking down the road. The moon was his only source of light, but it was enough. His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, and he could see almost as clearly as he could during the day.

From what he remembered of the car ride, all they'd done was drive up the highway. So it should be easy to find his way back to camp; he just had to follow it. He'd be fine without food for awhile, and there was a river in the forest that he'd easily be able to find. All he'd have to do was be prepared to hide whenever he heard a car engine, and while challenging, he was sure he'd be able to pull it off.

He wondered where the drivers had gone. They weren't stupid enough to think he'd gone that far, were they? It had been at least an hour. Why hadn't they returned?

Wes froze as realization struck him.  _Camp._

They were heading for camp.

He felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. Of  _course_  they were! It was the perfect plan; just wait there until he showed up. It was the one spot they knew he'd go, so it was the spot they went to. After all, it wasn't like anyone had dogs or radars; hunting people wasn't the easiest thing to do. In fact, Wes would mark it down as downright impossible. Someone would have to have extreme skills to be able to find anyone now, even if they  _weren't_ hiding. 

Which meant that Wes couldn't go back to camp. They were probably setting a trap for him, right at this moment. And even if they weren't, Wes would be endangering the lives of all his friends if he ever returned; if the group that kidnapped him ever found him hiding there, they'd probably slaughter everyone, including him. Camp wasn't an option. Not anymore.

Which left Wes with very little options. He could keep walking down the road, trying to find a city for shelter, and possibly another group. But that was risky; the lack of cover would leave him susceptible to attack, and who knows how long it would take him to find anything. Starvation and dehydration could kill him before he'd even reached the first town.

His only other option was the woods, which could supply him with food, water, and shelter, all the things he needed to find fast. He'd been a boys scouts when he was a kid, and still remembered most of the things they'd taught him. Combine that with all the time he'd spent in there with Remina, learning it's geography, and he would surely be able to thrive in the woods. There were dangers there too, of course; hypothermia, attack by wild animals, poisonous plants. But Wes felt like they were insignificant compared to the other options risks.

The choice wasn't a very hard one. The second the trees of the forest came into view, Wes veered off the road, and quickly entered the woods, hoping beyond hope that he was making the right choice.


	7. The Forest

Wes had never been in the woods at night before.

The trees cast long shadows, and almost blocked out the moon. It was terrifying, and Wes half expected to see a pair of red eyes peering at him from the foliage. The thought sent shivers up his spine.

By this point, Wes was exhausted. He'd been moving non-stop for at least three hours, and fatigue was starting to wash over him. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, what used to be a mild throbbing in his leg now felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing him. He slumped against a tree, knowing he wouldn't be getting much farther than this point.

Luckily, Wes knew what to do. He and David had spent a lot of time in the woods, before they found the group. Wes looked up the tree he was slouching on, seeing if there were any branches he could use to climb up it. To his relief, the trunk was coated with branches, and most of them looked sturdy enough to support his weight.

Taking a deep breath, Wes reached for the first one. He hauled himself up, trying to ignore the pain. He managed to climb to his feet on top of it, and reached for the next one.

This went on for awhile, before Wes finally found one that looked sturdy enough for him to sleep on. He sat down, leaning against the trunk, before removing his belt. The trunk was just skinny enough for him to wrap the belt around it, and he buckled it on his chest. It wasn't the most comfortable spot; compared to this, the ground of his prison container had felt like a mattress. But Wes was so exhausted that it didn't matter, and he quickly dozed off.

• • •

He awoke to sunlight shining in his eyes.

He brought his arm up to shield them, while undoing the buckle with his other. Once he had secured it around his waist again, he tested out his leg. Luckily, it didn't hurt to move it too much. Matthew had said that it wouldn't take much time to heal; hopefully, he was right. Once Wes was sure he could put his weight on it, he started to climb down the tree.

Once he was at the base, he began to think. He had a lot of things to get done; find food and water, build a base, start a fire. Seeing as he already knew where the river was, and that he and Remina had found some edible berries around it, he decided that that was a good place to start.

He surveyed his surroundings. Nothing looked familiar, but that didn't surprise him. He and Remina had never wandered too far from camp, and he was near the outer edges of the woods. He just needed to go in deeper.

Before he left, he carved an arrow into the trunk of the tree he'd slept in. If he ever got mixed up and found his way back here, it would be good to know which direction he'd gone in. It wasn't easy; the steak knife wasn't sharp, and the trunk wasn't pliable. However, he managed to complete his task, and started to walk away.

In the sunlight, it was much easier to see the ground. Roots and rocks that he would've tripped over last night were easily avoidable, and it was much easier to navigate. He found himself looking at the trunks of all the trees he passed; he and Remina had always marked trees when they journeyed farther than they'd gone before, and if he saw one of their cuts, he'd know where to go.

It was around midday when he saw the first one; an RW, carved into an oak tree. He traced his finger over it, smiling. He could tell from the way that it had been cut that Remina had done it, as she had always managed to carve far more elegantly than he had. He pressed his forehead against it, before continuing on.

After that, they popped up everywhere, on what seemed like every tree. He was grateful that they'd done this; at the time, they'd done it for fun, like two lovers carving a heart around their initials. It was an everlasting tribute to their love, something that would be around long after they were both dead. The memories brought a smile to his lips, and sent a tear rolling down his cheeks. In the chaos of everything, he hadn't properly mourned her. He doubted he ever would; it was painful, to think of her. Wes may be strong, but he wasn't when it came to emotions. If he ever truly accepted that she was gone, and that she would never come back, he was scared he'd break.

When he heard running water, Wes couldn't be more relieved. He didn't speed up his pace, to conserve his energy, but he grinned. He followed the noise, and eventually, he found it.

He dropped to his knees beside it, and cupped his hands in the flowing fresh water, before bringing it to his lips. In that moment, he didn't care about what bacteria might be in it; he was so thirsty, and the water felt so refreshing as it slid down his parched throat. He repeated the motion, drinking until he felt like he would burst. One resource was down; one to go.

Once he finished drinking, it wasn't tough to find food. Growing along the river banks was a blue berry, which looked similar to blueberries, but wasn't. It had a sweet taste, and Wes found himself downing them as quickly as he was plucking them. The berries weren't nutritious enough to be his primary food source, but they'd stop him from starving. Besides, after he made a spear, he could just get fish from the river.

He looked around. Surrounding the river was a small grass bank, leaving him an empty space between the river and the forest. He decided that this would be an excellent place to build his shelter, as he had plenty of space. And once he made his fire, it would eliminate the risk of accidentally creating a forest fire, which was a plus in his book.

Downing one more berry, Wes stood up. He racked his mind, trying to remember what they'd taught him in boys scouts. The only designs he remembered was the tipi and a lean-to, and seeing as he didn't have any rope beside his shoelaces- which he decided were much more valuable on his feet -he decided to build a lean-to.

He looked up and down the river, trying to spot any driftwood. Once he decided that there wasn't any, he made his way back into the forest. As long as he stayed in hearing range of the river, he figured, he'd be fine.

On his first trip out, he found some sticks that were long, but none that he could use as a base. He collected until his hands were full, before returning to the river.

He made three more journeys before he found it; a long branch that looked like it had been cracked off a tree by lightning. It took him awhile to drag it back to his little camp, but he managed to bring it there and lean it against one of the trees lining the open area.

By that point, the sun was starting to set, and Wes knew that he wouldn't finish before nightfall. By the time he'd finished laying out all the wood he'd collected on the side of the structure, the sun had set entirely. Accepting defeat, Wes took a drink of water, at some food, took a leak, and climbed up another tree.

He was tired, but not as much so as the first night. Now, he was completely aware of how cold it was. He shivered, wishing he had a fire, but it was too late to start one now. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the freezing temperature, and slowly fell asleep.

• • •

Wes woke up the same way he had the day before, but found the sun inviting instead of a nuisance. The temperatures had risen, much to his relief. Thank God he was in California; if he was any farther North he was sure that he would've frozen to death long ago.

He climbed down the tree, feeling determined; he was not going to spend another night like that one. He was going to finish his shelter, and he was going to do so by nightfall.

He ate and drank, before heading out, in an opposite direction as yesterday. By midday, he had found enough wood to complete his structure; now he just needed the leaves.

Luckily, those weren't very hard to find. He covered his stucture with them, covering every hole he could. While it didn't rain often here, it was a chance he couldn't take. Once he was done finishing the roof, he started making himself a bed out of leaves, both for comfort and to keep himself warm; the ground absorbed heat, and if he slept on it with nothing, it would probably kill him.

By the time he was finished, with time to spare, Wes was proud of himself. He was sure his old scoutmaster would be too, if he could see him now. If his scoutmaster even remembered him, as Wes could barely remember the features of the man's face. And, of course, if he was still alive.

But Wes wasn't done yet. After taking a quick break, he started trying to find firewood. Luckily, he already had a pile of wood he couldn't use for his shelter, and it was easy to find burnable wood from there. He set it up, and even collected some stones to place around it, for nothing but aesthetic reasons.

The sun hadn't even started to set by the time he was finished, so Wes began to make a spear. He found a long stick, and started sharpening it with his steak knife. Was it easy? No. Did he make it work? That's up to interpretation.

By the time it was sharp enough to even have a chance at killing anything, night had fallen. Wes laid the spear down and went over to his campfire. Now it was time for the hard part; actually starting a fire.

Wes grabbed a piece of wood and the dryest stick he could find, throwing a couple of small sticks on it for good measure. Then he started to slide his hands across the stick, trying to create as much friction as possible.

It took over an hour. There was a lot of cursing, he'll admit, and there was a point where he almost threw the stick in frustration. A few times, he's cut his hand, and there were a few spots of blood on the wood beneath him. He found himself wishing that he wasn't alone, as this would surely be easier if he had someone to switch shifts with.

But his hard work and dedication were paid off, and after a while, the wood started to smoke.

Wes wasted no time. He quickly got the ember onto the campfire, and started to blow on it. After a few minutes, the kindling caught fire.

Wes jumped up, and whooped in delight. He felt so accomplished, and the heat washing over him felt euphoric. He sat next to it for a while, enjoying the warmth, before climbing into his shelter.

His bed of leaves was far from comfy, but it beat the trees. He could still feel the heat emitting from the fire, and sighed in relief. Now that he'd gotten the hard parts done, it would be easy from here on out. Tomorrow, he'd try and catch fish.

But for now, Wes let drowsiness overtake him, and his eyelids slowly shut. He left the fire burning, and the crackling helped lull him to sleep.

Unbeknownst to him, however, a purple-haired woman was roped to a tree a mile or so away, smiling as she watched the smoke billow into the air.


	8. Run

For the first time in two nights, Wes woke up with a roof over his head. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest roof, but the sight was still reassuring. 

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and crawled out of his shelter. His eyes adjusted to the sunlight quickly, and he stretched, brushing leaves off himself. His fire was still smoking, so he snuffed it out with his jacket.

He took a drink of water, ate some berries, and planned out his day. First order of business; catch fish. The berries didn't contain enough protein to keep him going, and seeing as he was right near a river, fish would be the most reliable source of meat he could find.

He assumed it would take him all day to properly catch, gut, and cook a fish, but if he did somehow miraculously finish early, then he'd start working on defenses. One of his biggest threats right now was infecteds; if they stumbled across him at night, they'd eat him alive. He'd need a wall, preferably with spikes on the bottoms, to adequately defend himself; especially if he was going to be staying here for awhile. Which, from what he could tell, he would be.

Wes tested out his leg, which he was sure was fully healed, much to his relief. The last thing he needed was to fall in the river, and crack his head open on some rock. He removed his shoes and socks, rolled up his pants, grabbed his spear, and made his way to the river.

The current wasn't too strong, and the water was cool, not freezing. It was refreshing, in a way. He hadn't taken a bath for awhile, and the water felt soothing on his skin. He stood still, watching the water for any signs of movement. It was early spring, which he was sure was some salmon species spawning time, so there should be  _something._

Eventually, he saw one; a sleek red salmon, swimming right towards him. Wes had always loved animals, and felt a little guilty about taking one's life, but he didn't have a choice. It was either the fish or him, and he was going to pick himself.

He raised his spear and brought it down... right into a rock. The salmon swam away, unaware of how close it had been too death.

After that attempt, the salmon seemed to not stop coming, turning the water red in their movements. Despite the quantity of fish in the river, Wes, in his ineptitude, didn't catch a single one. This was a lot harder than he'd thought it would be, and it was infuriating.

In his anger, he jabbed at one fish with a lot more force than he needed. Like always, he missed, but this time, the spear cracked in half when it hit the rock. 

He stood there for a second, watching the sharp end of his spear flow down the river, before throwing the other half into the water. He climbed out of the river, burying his head in his hands. Not only had he come out of that fishless, but he'd also lost his spear. If he didn't figure this out, he'd starve. Failure wasn't an option. Not for this.

He took a few deep breaths. He had to stay optimistic. Moral was important in survival situations, and giving up was as dangerous as starvation. He'd learned that in boys scouts, when his group had grown so frustrated while trying to build a shelter that they'd given up. They'd been forced to sleep under the stars, and had been rained on. If that had happened in the real world, they would've died of 

He slipped on his shoes, and headed out into the woods, trying to give himself hope. He needed to find a new stick he could fashion into a spear, so he could try again.

It didn't take him too long to find one, a stick about as long as his shoulder to the end of his opposite arm. He started making his way back, feeling a bit better about himself. He could make this work. All he needed to do was be a bit more patient, think about his jabs before he performed them. He'd be fine.

The second he saw his camp, he froze. His jaw fell open, and his eyes widened. He almost dropped the stick.

Kneeling next to his fire, her baseball bat resting on her shoulder, was Mari. She had some of the ash in her hand, no doubt seeing how fresh it was. Her hair shone in the sunlight, and she was wearing a sequined leather jacket that made her look intimidating and pretty at the same time. She also had some knives attached to her belt, which Wes eyed wearily.

Wes was in disbelief for a few seconds, not believing his eyes. How the hell had she found him? 

Then he thought about it; the fire. She must've seen the fire. He almost slapped himself for his stupidity; he had practically sent out an SOS signal, letting her know exactly where he was. 

She let the ash slip out of her hands, and stood up. Wes realized, too late, that he should've hidden. Because the second she looked up, her eyes locked with his.

There were a few seconds where neither of them moved, too stunned at the sight of each other to react. Not that Wes could read her emotions; either she had mastered her poker-face, or the woman didn't feel any emotions. Then she slipped her bat off her shoulders, and Wes did what any sensible man would've done; run.

He ran as fast as he could, not caring about finding his way back. All he knew was that he had to get away, and he had to get away fast. Luckily, he had a head start, though he had no idea how long it would last. He had a feeling this wasn't the first time she had done this. Who knew how many people had been in his shoes before, running away from the bite of her bat.

He could hear the crackling of leaves, though he couldn't tell if it was from his own feet or hers. He assumed the latter. He took as many twists as he could, hoping to lose her among the trees. Luckily, the woods got thicker as he went along, increasing his chances.

After what felt like hours, he looked behind himself, checking to see if she was there. Much to his relief, he couldn't see anyone. He stopped, exhausted, and breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, miraculously, he had lost her. 

He looked around. This was far farther into the woods than he and Remina had ever journeyed, and he had no idea where he was. Worse of all, he couldn't hear the river, and had no idea how to find his way back to it. He was lost, in the woods, with no food and water, and a baseball-bat wielding woman hunting him.

He was  _fucked._

The severity of the situation hit him like a punch in the face. He had a feeling Mari wasn't going to give up that easily, and that he hadn't seen the last of her. He couldn't build another fire; that was out of the question. The last thing he needed was to make her task easier.

The first thing he needed to do was find the river. It hardly rained here, making that his only water source. If he didn't want to die in the next three days, he needed to find it, and quickly. 

He tried to retrace his steps, but he had taken so many turns that it was impossible. He ended up right where had had begun. His only chance, he realized, was to climb a tree; perhaps he'd be able to spot the river from a height. It was a slim chance, but it was his only one.

He walked for a bit, trying to find a tree that looked sturdy enough to climb. He spotted one that seemed plausible, and walked towards it, scouting it out. Then he tripped, landing face first in the hard dirt of the forest floor. The shock wore off quick; he'd done this many times before, back when he and Remina had gone exploring. Heck, he'd even done it on purpose a few times, just because he knew it would make her laugh. He had loved her laugh.

He got to his feet, assuming he'd tripped over a root, and continued to walk towards the tree, trying to distract himself from thinking about Remina. That's when he heard a soft whine, which he assumed came from an animal.

He turned, and saw a what looked like a dog, lying on the ground. It took him a few seconds, before he realized what it really was; a grizzly bear cub. He froze as he realized what had happened; he hadn't tripped over a root. He had tripped over a cub.

Which meant the mother couldn't be too far behind.

He instantly looked around, trying to spot any movement. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd be able to run before the mother showed up. But Wes had never been a lucky guy.

She emerged from the bushes, roaring. Wes will admit it; he screamed. At the moment, he didn't know what to do, and froze in fear. In any other scenario, he would've found the creature in front of him beautiful, with her shaggy caramel fur and sharp teeth and claws; he'd always loved bears. But, at that moment, she was the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen.

She charged at him, and Wes overcame his shock just enough to start running, momentarily forgetting that that was the absolute opposite of what you should do as his instincts took over. He didn't get far before she knocked into his side, sending him straight into a tree. He didn't have enough time to get up before she clasped her jaws around his arm, tossing him around like a rag doll as he screamed in agony, before throwing him into another tree. 

He heard something break, though he didn't know what it was. There was so much pain emanating from his arm that it was almost unbearable, and he could feel the blood running down it. He was surprised that the bear hadn't torn it off him completely, and was too scared to look at it.

The animal wasted no time in charging at him again. Wes squeezed his eyes shut, tears rolling down his face, not wanting to watch his own death. Of all the ways he'd imagined going out, this was far from one of them. He braced himself, knowing that it was just a matter of time before the beast finished what it had started.

_Bang!_

The sound vibrated in his ears. It took him a few seconds to realize what it was; a gunshot. He shakily opened his eyes just in time to see the bear fall over, causing the ground to shake as it's weight hit the ground.

Everything was blurry, and he felt dizzy, from what he assumed was the blood loss. He felt something grab him, and he flinched. But this hold was soft, and it felt like hands.

He tried to focus on whoever was in front of him. He could make out a face, but the features were blurry. For one, small second, he thought it was Mari, and started panicking. He would rather get eaten by a bear than get captured by her and her group of lunatics. At least a bear would have a real use for his body. 

Then he noticed the person's blonde hair, and realized he had just been saved by a complete stranger. He could vaguely hear something over the pounding in his ears, and he was pretty sure the person was saying something, though he couldn't make out their words.

Then he blacked out.


	9. Help

Wes's eyelids opened slowly.

He found himself staring at a wooden ceiling, which definitely wasn't the one of his shelter. He sat up groggily, before observing his surroundings.

He was in a cabin, if he had to guess. The walls were made of wooden logs, and there was a window on one of them, which curtains were opened. He could see the forest from it, and a deer lounging in the foliage.

He was in a bed, but besides that, there was no other furniture in the room save for a cabinet, bedside table, and a few chairs. There was a rifle, as well, resting against the wall.

But the most shocking them to him, by far, was his arm. It was in a sling, wrapped around his neck. He tried to move it, but all he could do was move it from his shoulder. In fact, he couldn't even feel his arm.

He started hyperventilating as his memories returned to him. Mari. Bear. Pain. Blonde person. Where had they taken him? What did they want with him? After his last encounter with anyone outside his group, Wes was suspicious of everyone.

The door creaked open, and Wes' head shot up. A blonde-haired woman stood there, a bowl of soup in her hands. She looked shocked to see him, before her mouth split into a grin.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" She said, sitting down in the chair next to him. "How does your arm feel?"

"I can't even feel it," Wes replied on instinct. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

The woman laughed. "Of course, I should've introduced myself. I'm Courtney. Courtney Miller-Sui."

She extended her hand, and Wes shook it. "My name's Wes. Where am I?"

The woman placed the soup on the table. "You're in my wife and I's cabin. It's not too far off from where you were... attacked."

"You're the one who saved me?" He asked. She nodded.

"Yeah," She nodded at the rifle. "With that baby over there. Shot the beast right through the eye."

"You must be a skilled markswoman," Wes replied.

Courtney smiled. "You could say that. I'm certainly better than my wife."

"Your wife," Wes repeated. "Is she here?"

Courtney nodded. "She's out fishing right now. You'll be able to meet her later. That is, of course, if you stay."

Wes paused at her words. He could stay here? He knew he would much rather be here, in a home, than out in the wilderness. But he didn't know these people; they could sell him out to Mari in an instant if they wanted too. Or, if they didn't, he'd be putting them in danger by staying here. He was sure that Mari was hunting him, and he felt like she didn't need a fire to track him down.

"I can't," He replied. "Thanks for the offer."

"At least stay until your arms healed," Courtney replied. "You got attacked by a bear when you had both of them. Who knows what you could fall victim too with only one."

He knew that they were both thinking about the same thing; infecteds. She was right. It would be very challenging to defend himself with only one arm, especially since it wasn't his dominant one.

"Do you have enough resources to have me?" He asked.

Courtney nodded. "More than enough. We have five years worth in cans, a garden, and a river full of fish."

"Why do you want to help me so much?" He asked. For all he knew, this was a trap.

"I used to be a doctor," Courtney replied. "It's kind of my thing."

A doctor. Just like Matthew. That gave him much more confidence on how long it would take for his arm to heal.

"How long will it take to heal?" Wes asked.

"Six weeks if you exercise it regularly," Courtney replied. "It would've been faster if I had the proper tools, but..."

She didn't need to finish that sentence. "Only six weeks?"

"It's just a minor fracture," She replied. "You're a fortunate man. Your muscles were also torn a bit, but those will heal quickly. Especially seeing as you've already been out for a week."

A week? Who knew how close Mari could be to them by now!

"There's something I need to tell you," Wes told her. He couldn't keep her in the dark about this. Not when it could cost her her life; he had a feeling Mari would stop at nothing to get to him. "Someone's hunting me."  
  
Courtney raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Someone's trying to find me," He repeated. "Someone dangerous."  
  
"Why?" Courtney asked.

Wes thought about it for a few seconds. While she seemed like a nice person, Courtney could have the same beliefs as Ian. He couldn't risk it. "I stole from them, and they want me to pay for it."

"Who's looking for you?" Courtney asked. "I mean, what do they look like?"

"Short, purple-haired woman," He replied.

"We haven't seen anyone looking like that," She replied. "If we do, we'll tell you, and you'll have to go. Deal?"  
  
That sounded good to Wes. "Deal."

They shook on it, before Courtney stood up. "I've brought you some soup, as I assume you're hungry. We have some bottled water in the kitchen, and I suggest you drink that instead of the water from the lake; that's full of bacteria. We've got some books if you get bored, and a few tasks you could possibly do with only one hand."

"Okay," Wes replied. "Thank you. For everything."  
  
"Your welcome," Courtney smiled, before exiting the room, closing the door behind her.

It took Wes a while to grab the soup. He rested the bowl on his lap, thankful that it wasn't too hot, and started to eat it. He stared out the window as he did, thinking.

He didn't want to put Courtney and her wife in danger, and he felt horrible for doing so. But he wouldn't be able to survive on his own, not without his arm. He had no choice.

On the plus side, Courtney's wife might be able to teach him to fish, which was something he needed to know. And not having to worry about food and water... he hadn't been able to do that for a long, long time. And if Courtney's wife was as pleasant as she was, then he felt like he'd get along with them fine.

He finished his soup and placed it on the table. Courtney had made it seem like he was welcome to go wherever he wanted, and that's what he did.

The cabin wasn't large, but it wasn't small, either. It was two floors, with a balcony and two bedrooms on the top and a living room, bathroom, and kitchen on the bottom. The view from the balcony was exquisite; it wasn't high enough to see over the treeline, but he could see a gigantic lake, with a mountain behind it. The sight was jaw-dropping.

The living room was pretty dull, with only a few couches, a coffee table, and a T.V. A few bored games and books were strewn in the corner. Wes tried to turn on the T.V, but he didn't succeed. He hadn't been expecting to.

The bathroom was small, and packed with items. He assumed they were using it as a storage closet, as without plumbing, it was useless. He was happy to see that they had toilet paper; in this day and age, that was a luxury.

The kitchen was rather large. They had a propane stove set up, with a few propane tanks resting on the marble counter behind it. The cabinets were packed with cans, and the fridge with items that expired quickly, like fish and vegetables. The sink was full of dirty dishes. A table rested in the middle of the room, where Courtney was sitting, sewing. She waved to him, but didn't say anything.

He heard a door open, and Courtney almost sprung up. "That's her!"

He followed her into the living room, where an Asian woman was taking off her muddy shoes. She had long black hair, and black eyes. If he had to guess, he'd say he was Chinese. She had a bag in her hand.

"Hey honey," The woman kissed Courtney on her cheek. "I see he's up."  
  
Courtney nodded. "Wes, this is my wife, Olivia. Olivia, this is Wes."

Olivia extended her hand, and Wes took it. "So you're the one who was attacked by a bear?"

Wes' cheeks burned. "Yeah."

"They do that," Olivia joked. "You know how to gut a fish?"  
  
Courtney rolled her eyes. "Look at his arm, Liv."

"Fair point," Oliva replied, throwing her arm around her wife. "Think you can collect firewood?"  
  
"Possibly," Wes replied uncertainly.

"Try it," Olivia replied. "Court, could you help me out for a sec?"

Courtney nodded, and ran into the kitchen. She came back with two knives, and handed one to Olivia, before both women slipped on their shoes. With that, they left.

Wes stood there for a few seconds, before realizing what he was supposed to be doing; getting firewood. Olivia had made that very clear. Wes could understand why, of course; he was a guest in her house. Of course she'd expect him to pull his weight.

His shoes were waiting for him at the door, and he slipped them on, before exiting the cottage.

It was midday, and wasn't too hot. He spotted Courtney and Olivia, down by the lake, gutting fish. He'd have to watch them someday; that was a valuable skill he needed to acquire.

On either side of him were gardens, which were rather large in size, seeing as they only fed two- now three, he supposed -people. Seeing as it was spring, most of the plants were ready to harvest. He spotted tomatoes, potatoes, peas, and an assortment of other fruits and vegetables. It definitely looked more impressive than the one back at camp;  _before_  it was destroyed, of course.

He made his way into the woods, making sure to stay within eyesight of the cabin; the last thing he needed right now was to lose himself in the forest again. It hadn't worked well the first time, and he wasn't looking for a repeat.

He found some wood that looked burnable. It was hard to pick up; he had to roll it up his arm to get it to stick under it. Once his arms were full, he made his way back.

He did this a few times, before he decided that he had enough. He saw what looked like a campfire pit near the gardens, and started setting up a fire, before he froze.

What was he  _doing?_  This was precisely what had led Mari to him; a fire. He wasn't about to make the same mistake.

By that time, Olivia and Courtney had finished. Olivia patted him on the back. "Congratulations."  
  
"Wait," He replied, making her stop walking towards the house. "We shouldn't make a fire."  
  
"Why not?" She asked. "We were planning on using it to cook some fish so that we could save our propane."  
  
"Someone's trying to find me," Wes replied. "This would lead them straight to me."

Olivia froze, her lips twisting into a scowl. "You mean to tell me that you're putting Courtney in danger?"  
  
Wes was tongue-tied for a few seconds. "No- I mean... kind of."

Olivia dropped her bag of fish and, with a lot more strength than she looked like she had, pulled him to his feet by his shirt collar. "If anything happens to her, I'll _kill_  you. Understand?"

Wes nodded frantically. Olivia wasn't the tallest woman, but the anger in her eyes made her look terrifying, especially seeing as his broken arm made it almost impossible for him to defend himself.

She dropped him. "Good."

She turned, and started walking back to the cabin. Before she entered the building, she turned her head.

"We'll use the propane stove to cook the fish."

Then she walked inside the house, leaving him in the dust.


	10. Star Wars Day

He was strung up by his ankles.

The entirety of Mari's group was in front of him, watching. Underneath him were several bowls, ready to catch his blood. Ian was delivering a speech, though Wes couldn't make out what he was saying. The crowd cheered.

Ian gestured at Mari, who's purple hair was gleaming in the moonlight, along with the sequins on her jacket. She walked over to Wes and crutched down before him, giving him a smile while she produced a knife from her belt. He tried to struggle, but the ropes were too tight. 

She brought the knife to the side of his throat, drawing blood. Wes gulped as he felt the cold metal pierce his skin, and a tear rolled down his face. Mari closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, so quietly that Wes could barely hear her. Then, in one quick, fluid movement, she brought the blade across his throat, slicing his neck. Blood poured from the wound as he chocked, and the crowd screamed in excitement. 

Wes woke up with a start, sweat dripping from his forehead. He'd been having that nightmare for the past seven days, ever since Courtney rescued him. He didn't know why. Of course, he could understand that he was scared about what would happen if Mari caught him; he didn't need a dream to tell him that. But the fact that she apologized for it, like she didn't want to do it when Wes knew that she did, that was... unexplainable. 

Maybe he just wanted to humanize her, to believe there was some good in her. Wes had always had trouble with that. He could never just accept that some people were bad; he just couldn't believe that. How could someone just be pure evil, to not care about others at all, to not even have a drop of humanity?

It wasn't helping much, either, that Mari was beautiful. He'd stopped denying it to himself; any person with eyes could see that she was, with her perfect face and fit body, and the way she managed to look good in everything. His mother- his good old, trophy-wife mother -had always taught him that beautiful people were always good people, trustworthy people. It seemed like her words had stuck. It had stuck with his brother, Trenton, too; right up until he shot himself in the head.

Wes climbed out of bed and opened the curtains. It was a sunny day, like always. Downstairs, he could hear the opening of cabinets, which he assumed was Courtney, making breakfast.

Over the past week, he'd pretty much figured out how things were run here. Oliva did most of the traditionally masculine tasks, like fishing and farming, while Courtney did most of the feminine, like cooking and sewing. But it wasn't completely set in stone; Courtney loved hunting, which was why she was such a good shot. And Olivia always did the laundry, down by the river, along with the dishwashing.

Wes was a wild card. Whatever task that he could perform with only one hand, they had him do. Olivia's doing the dishes? He was on drying duty. Courtney's cooking? He's handing her ingredients and setting the table. He helped out where he could, and never complained; though he couldn't wait until his arm healed. It would make everything so much easier.

That was, of course, if he stayed. He figured that it would take Mari awhile to find him, as she could only be going off footprints for now. Two days ago, he had Courtney take him to the spot where the bear mauled him, making sure they hadn't left behind any footprints. On their way back, he made sure that they covered their tracks, by either swiping them away or covering them with rocks or leaves. They couldn't do much about the cracked tree or bear carcass, but Wes would be damned if he made Mari's job easier by giving her a trail to follow.

In all honesty, he didn't want to leave. Sure, Olivia hated him, but he understood that; they were barely a step above strangers, and he had openly admitted to putting all of them in danger with his presence. If their roles were reversed, Wes would feel the same way about her.

But besides that, everything was perfect here. It was even better here than back at camp. Food wasn't an issue, there was always something to do, and they weren't susceptible to attack. He'd already decided it; he would stay for as long as possible.

He made his way downstairs. Courtney had already set the table, and was finishing breakfast, which seemed to be canned sausage links with cut-up peaches. Wes hadn't noticed it during his first day here, but they also had an orchard- be it a small one -behind the house. Courtney smiled when she saw him.

"Good morning," He greeted.

"'Morning," She replied. "Can you get the calendar, please?"

Another one of the things Wes hadn't noticed on his first day; he wasn't the most observant of people, he'll admit. Hanging on the wall was a calendar, which Courtney and Olivia were using to track the days. It was one from 2020, though it was 2022 now. They'd already crossed out all the dates, and were now turning them into X's. 

Sure, the date didn't matter nowadays; there were no dentist appointments to make, no holidays to celebrate, no days of from school for kids to look forward to. But something about it, something as simple as knowing the date, seemed astronomical nowadays. The fact that it was meaningless made it worthwhile, in a way.

He picked up the pen off the table and crossed out May 4th. Only nineteen days from his birthday. He smiled at the thought. His last birthday he'd spent in the middle of a forest, unaware of the fact that it even was May 23rd. And the one before that, he'd spent at boot camp, getting ready to fight for his country. At least, then, David had given him a chocolate bar that he'd gotten from who knows where. 

"It's almost my birthday," He said absentmindedly.

"Put it up there, then," Courtney instructed. "We'll have to do something to celebrate it."

He had no idea what they could possibly do. It wasn't like they could rush down to Dairy Queen and buy him a cake. Still, the thought was nice, and he did what she asked.

By then, Olivia had made her way downstairs. She kissed Courtney on the cheek, wrapping her hands around her waist. Thankfully, Courtney didn't have anything in her hands, and had already finished setting the table. She giggled and leaned back into her wife, letting her kiss her neck.

Wes sat down at the chair facing the window. It wasn't so much that he minded their affectionate actions; he had no problem with that. It just reminded him of himself and Remina; they had been like that, desperate for each other's touch, showing each other that they loved them whenever they could. And thinking of Remina was pain, a pain that he had to keep buried inside himself out of fear that it would overtake him. So he didn't look, eating his sausages by himself as he stared out the window.

Courtney and Olivia sat down not long after, and started eating. They ate in silence, enjoying the meat. These breakfasts were a luxury; they wouldn't have pork for long. Most mornings, they ate soup, or vegetables from the garden.

"It's Star Wars day," Olivia noted with a smile, looking at the calendar.

Courtney turned. "Oh, you're right! I completely forgot about that!"

"May the fourth be with you," Olivia said in a dramatic voice, causing her wife to laugh. It brought a smile to Wes' lips as well.

Courtney turned to him. "Are you a Star Wars fan, Wes?"

"Who isn't?" He raised his eyebrow, which caused Courtney to laugh. He caught Olivia's mouth twitch.

"Good point," She replied. "But Oliva and I were huge fans. We had models, posters, cosplay outfits, lego sets... pretty much everything that ever had the Star Wars logo on it."

"Wow," Wes smiled. "You were that big of nerds?"

Courtney laughed. "Well, we were a doctor and a scientist. We were born nerds."

"You were a scientist?" He asked Olivia, who suddenly looked like she would rather be somewhere else. Courtney's smile melted.

"Yes," She replied, not looking at him, opting instead to poke at her sausage with her fork.

"What did you study?" He asked.

"Neurochemistry," She replied.

Before he could ask any more questions, Courtney spoke up. "What were you, Wes?"

He felt like he'd hit a sore subject, so he didn't ask any more questions. "I was going to be part of the army, but I never finished training."

"Joined to late, before...?" Courtney didn't have to finish her sentence.

Wes nodded. They finished their meal in silence.

• • •

He was shaken from his sleep by screams.

They were ear-splitting, heart-breaking screams, coming from inside the cabin. He sprung out of bed, and started running towards them. They were coming from Courtney and Olivia's room.

He put his hand on the doorknob, but the second he did, the screams stopped, and turned into sobs. Wes stood there, confused, before he started to hear voices.

"Shhh. You're okay, Liv."

"It's all my fault, Courtney. It's all my fault!"

"It's not your fault. You didn't know."

"I've killed people! They're dead because of me, Court! Billions of people- dead!"

The sobs got louder.

"No, Olivia, you were just trying to help. You couldn't know that this was going to happen. You couldn't have!"

"But it did! I  _created_  them, Court!"

"Liv. I love you, understand? I love you no matter what. You didn't mean too. I know you. You just wanted to help people. You couldn't have known that this was going to happen. You _couldn't_  have."

Wes backed away from the door, quickly going back to his room. He had no idea what he'd just heard. What had Olivia created? Did she have PTSD? From the way Courtney was handling it, like it had happened before, he felt like she did. 

Suddenly, he felt terrible for eavesdropping. He had _no_ right to listen in on their private conversation. He should've left the second he figured out no one was in danger. He climbed back into bed, guilt washing over him, and closed his eyes, where Mari was waiting for him in his dreams.

• • •

Meanwhile, the real Mari was walking through the forest, dragging her baseball bat behind her. She had given up hope two days ago that Wes would be returning to his camp, and felt foolish for wasting her time waiting there for him. She'd underestimated his mental capabilities; unless, of course, he was dead, in which case she would've overestimated them.

Luckily, she'd found his footprints, and she knew they were his from how big they were. But they were faint, and she was worried that if she waited till morning, they'd be gone.

And so she walked, well past midnight, deeper and deeper into the forest. She wasn't worried; she'd spent a good portion of her childhood in a forest, and this one was hardly different. She was more than adequately prepared to fight off whatever Mother Nature threw at her, be it a feral beast or a raging storm.

A putrid smell hit her nostrils, and Mari found herself in a small clearing. What instantly caught her attention was the carcass; a grizzly bear was lying on the ground, obviously dead, for what seemed like days. Next to it laid a cub, though Mari couldn't tell if it was alive or dead. If it wasn't already gone, it would be soon.

What caught her attention next was a fractured tree. She crouched down in front of it, examining it. It was peppered with blood, like someone had been thrown against it. It didn't take her that long to figure out what happened.

Her mouth broke open into a grin. If he was injured, then her job would be a lot easier. Now, all she had to do was find who saved him.


	11. Pasts

When Courtney asked him if he'd heard anything last night, he lied.

"No," He replied. "Did you?"

"Well... Olivia has vivid nightmares," Courtney replied, passing him a bowl of chicken soup. "I just wanted to know if she woke you up."

"I'm a deep sleeper," He lied. Wes was such a light sleeper that a floorboard creaking could wake him up. "Didn't hear a thing."

"Good," The blonde replied. 

As the days went on, it got worse, to the point where it was happening almost every night. Pair that with his nightly nightmares, and Wes was barely getting any sleep. That was a problem; in this world, fatigue could kill you just as quickly as starvation.

He never evesdropped again, still feeling ashamed of himself for doing it the first time. It was tempting, though; as time went on, he couldn't shake a feeling that Courtney and Olivia were hiding something from him. Something about Olivia's past. And while he usually wasn't a prying person, he desperately wanted to know what it was.

Perhaps that was how he needed up in the garden, despite the fact that he could barely pick anything with his arm, helping Olivia with the daily task of farming. Spring was almost over, and they needed to harvest everything before the crops became overripe or were attacked by crows.

The black-haired woman rarely glanced at him, keeping her eyes on the crops. Her black hair was pulled into a ponytail. While she had warmed up to him a little over the past two weeks, she was still rather indifferent to him. Wes didn't mind. She didn't hate him anymore, and that was a win in his book.

"So," He said awkwardly, trying to start up a conversation. "How did you and Courtney meet?"

She looked up at him, her black eyes seemingly staring into his soul. Her expression gave him the impression that she didn't want to talk to him, yet she spoke anyway. "College. Harvard."

"Harvard?" Wes asked. "That's impressive."

"Well, we both got scholarships," She replied, turning her attention back to the ground. "I was a genius, Courtney was rich. We found our ways."

"How long have you been together?" He asked.

"Seven years," She replied. "Been married for four."

"Did you ever want children?" He asked. 

Olivia's expression soured. "We were planning on it. There was a little girl named Emily. She had Courtney's eyes. The exact same color. We wanted to adopt her, but..."  
  
"Didn't get to in time?" Wes asked.

Olivia shook her head. "A blessing, in a way. We never would've been able to get here with a child. Hopefully, she got out, found someone who was willing to take her in."

The chances of that were unlikely. A child, in this world, alone? They wouldn't last a day in the old world, let alone the new. And seeing as there was no way they could conceive a child, Olivia and Courtney would never be mothers, no matter how much they wanted to be. Wes couldn't imagine that; he'd always loved children, had always wanted them. At least, for him, there was a chance that he'd still have them.

"Of course, it's my fault that we don't," Olivia said. "My fault that we didn't adopt her."

"You convinced Courtney to delay it too long?" He asked.

Olivia shook her head. "No."

He was close, he could feel it. He'd have to pick his next question carefully. She was actually opening up to him, an occurrence that had never happened before; who knew when he'd get an opportunity like this again.

"Where did you work?" He asked.

Olivia's head shot up. They stared at each other for awhile. He knew that she was analyzing him, deciding whether or not she could trust him. He maintained eye contact.

From the time he'd spent with her, he could tell that Olivia was smart. Every time they played a board game, she'd win. She could remember things that seemed unremarkable, like what the order of cans were in any given cabinet. She could plan out entire buildings in her head within seconds. Wherever she had worked, it must've been big.

"The FDCCC," She whispered, so quietly that Wes barely heard her. A small tear rolled down her face.

The FDCCC. It took a few seconds for it to click. The Federal Disease Creation, Control, and Containment department. The people who had made the virus.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Why she had blamed herself for the fact that she and Courtney didn't have a child. How she'd killed billions of people, which she'd said when he'd evesdropped.  _She had helped create the virus._ And with a brain like hers, she'd probably been a main contributor.

"You helped create it," He stated, not really processing it. "You helped create the virus."

She nodded, loudly sobbing at this point. She buried her head in her hands. 

"Why?" Was all he could ask.

"My parents," Olivia managed to calm down enough to be able to speak, though she was still crying. "My parents were in the military. My father had on duty been my whole life, while my mother had quit to take care of me. But when the war began, she enlisted again; I was twenty-three, after all. She didn't need to take care of me anymore."

She wiped a few of her tears from her face. "They both died in an airstrike on their base, delivered by North Korea. And I was just... so, so angry.

"I'd refused to work on it before, when it was first introduced by the Vice President. I thought it was barbaric; they wanted us to create a disease that would strip people of their humanity, to make them barely above animals. It was an insult to the science, in my eyes.

"But then my parents died, and I was so consumed with rage. I wanted someone to pay. I joined the project, helping them figure out what parts of the brain the disease would have to alter to shape its host into the creature they wanted. I toiled away for hours, looking over every detail, pushing Courtney to the side as I immersed myself in my work. And I succeeded."

She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "Do you know what the disease does to people, Wes? What it does to their brains?"

He shook his head. Beyond a brief, universal explanation that everyone shared, he didn't know what the disease did to its hosts. He wasn't sure if he wanted to, but curiosity got the best of him, and he found himself listening to Olivia's every word.

"It shuts it off. Everything that makes a person a person, we got rid off. It's memory storage, it's chemical makeup... everything. That was the goal; to make everyone the same.

"They aren't really zombies. They aren't dead; we didn't have the technology to animate a corpse. We never will. The disease, at its core, is just a mutated version of rabies that we genetically coded to be exactly how we wanted it to be. An infected only has three goals; eat, drink, and infect others.

"We cut off certain functions; seeing as the brain controls everything your body does, we could pick and choose what we wanted to keep. The skin doesn't moisturize itself. Hair and fingernails don't grow. They become infertile. Pupils are always dilated, so they can see in the dark. The green skin and bulging eyes were unintended, but unfixable."

She had stopped crying. The two of them stared at each other in silence. Wes was shocked; he could barely process the information he'd been given.

"Is there a cure?" He asked. If there was one, Olivia would know about it.

"I wanted to make a cure before we released it," She stated. "I knew that there was a chance that it could spread here, and though that chance was small at the time, it was too big of a risk to ignore. The president agreed with me at first. Then London was bombed, and fear grew to the point where I had no choice. The disease was released in North Korea, and now, here we are. Cureless."

 _Except there was one,_ Wes thought. Well, it wasn't a cure. But he was immune, and there were other's out there like him; he knew that from Joven.

"Olivia," He said after a few more moments of silence. "There's something I need to show you."

She looked at him queerly as he started to roll up his pant leg, which was difficult with his one arm. Yet, he managed and showed her his bite. Her eyes widened.

"Is that..." 

"Yeah," He replied. "That's an infected bite."

She rushed over to him, taking his leg in her hands, examining it. "No. No, that's impossible. We looked at every race, every body type, every DNA strand we could find. We made sure that no one would be immune. This is impossible."

She looked him straight in the eye. "How did this happen?"

"I was bit a month or so ago," He replied. "The virus just... never spread. I have another one on my shoulder."

"Impossible," A tear rolled down her cheek. "That's impossible. We made sure of it."

"Then I'm a miracle," He smiled.

She shot to her feet. "We need to get you to a lab somewhere. If I had the right equipment, I could figure out what's making you this way. If it's your DNA, your brain, or something else entirely. And if we get really, really lucky... perhaps we can find a cure!"

Wes doubted that- that he was the key to saving humanity -but Olivia's mind was already wheeling, and she was walking in circles, muttering to herself. He got to his feet and collected his basket of fruit, along with hers, before bringing them inside. They could finish harvesting later.

He laid them on the kitchen counter, where Courtney was sewing. She gave him a queer look, and he explained everything; what Olivia had told him, what he'd told her. The second he finished, Courtney rushed out of the house, to either talk some sense into her wife or encourage her. Wes didn't know which.

He sat down, burying his head in his hands, trying to process everything Olivia had told him. How the disease worked. How he might be the key to saving humanity.

He almost laughed at the thought. The thought of him saving anybody was ridiculous, let alone the whole world. Even if Olivia did somehow make a cure from his genetic makeup, who would they give it to? The world was fucked. They just needed to accept that.

A thought he'd never had squirmed into his brain. In the last three weeks, since he was kidnapped by Mari and Ian, he'd never considered the possibility that they were right. That drinking his blood _would_  make people immune. It had seemed so outrageous at the time, that he hadn't even considered it.

But what if it was? What if the cure was flowing through his veins? It was a possibility. A slim one, but a possibility none the less. Of course, there was no way to check if it was true. Not unless someone got bit, someone he could use as a guinea pig.

He shook the thought from his head immediately. He wasn't going to use  _anyone_ as a guinea pig. What kind of monster has such a thought? If there was a cure, his blood definitely wasn't it. What a ridiculous theory. And everyone who believed it was a lunatic.

Wes looked out the window, to see Olivia and Courtney, deep in discussion. He popped some blueberries into his mouth, thinking.

It would probably be best for everyone if he forgot that conversation ever happened. If everyone did. Survival should be everyone's primary priority; not childish hopes of a cure that didn't exist.

He put the freshly-picked produce in the fridge, before exiting the house. He had work to do.


	12. Found

Olivia's nightmares had stopped; and along with them, his own. For the past two weeks, he'd been getting a full night's sleep every day.

He'd now been with Courtney and Oliva for over a month. His arm was usable, though barely, and not without a hell of a lot of pain. Courtney told him not to use it unless he absolutely had to, as it was easy to refracture and that the bone hadn't properly healed yet. Seeing as it felt like someone was cutting his arm off every time he moved it, he had a feeling that overusing it wouldn't be a problem.

The three of them were like a family. It was a joke among them; Courtney and Olivia were the parents, him the overgrown child. They supported each other, cared for each other, helped each other. Wes loved that. His real family was dead, and he couldn't go back to camp. It was nice to have friends again, to feel like he was a part of something.

 It had rained the previous night, and the ground was slick with mud. They only owned one pair of boots, and Olivia was wearing them, making sure all of the plants were alright before she'd go fishing. Wes was helping Courtney make herbal remedies, handing her ingredients and the such.

It was almost nighttime, which meant Olivia would be home soon. Wes went upstairs, to grab some blankets; it had started raining again, and Olivia would be freezing. When she returned, she'd defiantly want to warm up. And seeing as they didn't have a fireplace or any hot cocoa for her, blankets would be the best they could do.

That was when he heard the door open.

At first, he thought nothing of it, that it was just Olivia returning. Then he heard Courtney's voice, slightly panicked, asking "who are you?" 

There was a brief silence as Wes stopped moving, listening intently. What did Courtney mean, who are you? They didn't have any neighbors; there was no one out here.

"Where is he?" The other person asked. Their voice rang in Wes' ears as dread overtoke him. He recognized that voice, no matter how much he wished he didn't. The blankets slipped from his hands, landing soundlessly on the floor.

 _Mari had found him._ Somehow, miraculously, she'd found him. He'd tried so hard to cover his tracks, to never give her a signal or sign of where he was, and yet she had found him anyways.

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"Don't give me that. I know he's here. Tall bloke, brown hair. You saved him from a bear. Does any of that ring a bell?" 

"I have no idea what-"

Courtney's voice stopped abruptly. Wes was almost about to run to her aid when she screamed, stopping him in his tracks.

"RUN!"

He stood there for a few seconds, deliberating what he should do. He couldn't just leave Courtney in Mari's clutches; she came from a group of monsters. Who knew what she would do to her.

 And where would he even run too? There was only one exit, and Mari was blocking it. The only other possible option would be to jump off the deck, and that was less than favorable.

He rushed to the staircase, determined to come to Courtney's aid. He arrived just in time to see Courtney, pressed against the wall by Mari's bat, which she had pressed against the blonde woman's chest. Courtney saw him out of the corner of her eye.

"RUN, WES!" She shouted at him. "RUN!"

Time seemed to freeze. He watched as Mari brought up her bat and, before Courtney could react, swung it into the blonde's head with all her strength. Blood flew through the air as Courtney crumbled, collapsing onto the kitchen floor.

Before Wes could bring himself to his senses, Mari had turned, and was facing him. Her purple-hair had grown out, leaving the roots black, which he assumed was her natural hair color. Her baseball bat was dripping with Courtney's blood.

Her lips broke out into a smile, and that was when Wes ran.

He could hear her feet stomping up the stairs, and he desperately looked for a way out. He could only see one; the deck. He opened the doors, running onto the raised platform.

His stomach dropped as he looked off the edge. It was at least a ten-feet-drop, and if he broke his leg, he was screwed. But he had no choice; he only had a matter of seconds before Mari found him.

He climbed over the railing, the rain pounding on his skin. He heard the door open, and with a lot more bravery than he thought he had, jumped.

The soft mud of the ground cushioned his fall. He looked up, and saw Mari climbing over the banister, her eyes locked on him. He wasted no time, and started to run.

The mud's benefits had ended quickly. Now, all it did was slow him down, dragging his feet behind him. He didn't dare turn around, out of fear that it would slow him down, and could only hope that the wet earth had the same effect on his pursuer.

His hair was drenched by now, and the wet strands were obstructing his vision. He did the natural thing; he screamed for Olivia. That woman was as tough as nails, and was his only hope if he wanted to escape. Alone, with his arm, he had no chance against Mari. With Olivia's help, they might be able to overpower her.

That dream was obliterated the second a baseball bat collided with his shoulder, sending pain shooting up his torso. Wes screamed, and before he could even process the pain, she hit his left knee, making his legs collapse under him and bringing him to the ground.

Quicker than lightning, she pinned him down, throwing all her weight on him with her legs on his arms. Before he could react, he felt the cold metal of a knife press up against his throat, making him gulp.

He stared up at Mari, his breathing heavy. This was it. She'd caught him. There was no getting out of this; she could kill him in a second if she wanted to, with a flick of her wrist. He was entirely at her mercy.

Mari laughed, pressing the knife deeper into his throat. He felt a trail of blood run down his neck, and a tear rolled out of his eye, mixing with the rain pounding against his face.

"You covered up your tracks pretty well," She smiled, leaning over him, her hair falling over his face. "It was a  _bitch_  to find you. But I did. I always do. Did you  _really_  think you could run from me?"

Wes was petrified. All he could do was stare up at her, at her black eyes and rosy red lips. With blood speckling some of her face, and rain running down her skin, she looked terrifying.

"Why?" He managed to croak out.

"Why?" She laughed again, making Wes think of a lunatic. "Because you stole from us. We owned you, and you just decided to leave? You slighted us!"

She dug the knife deeper into his skin, making him whimper. "Do you really think that you're more important than 300 people? That your life is more important than theirs? They all could've been immune, if you had just stayed!"  
  
"You're a  _lunatic!_ " Wes shouted, not caring if he angered her. She had just injured Courtney, if not killed her, and was lecturing him about selfishness? "You're all lunatics! Monsters! Drinking my blood wasn't going to make  _anyone_  immune! I don't even know you, and you hunted me like a dog! What is  _wrong_ with you?"

There were a few moments of silence, as the two of them stared at each other, neither relenting to each other's gaze. Wes was openly crying now. He didn't care if she saw, if she judged him. 

For a few seconds, she changed, like she was dropping a facade. Her face softened, and she almost dropped the knife. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she gingerly touched the blood- Courtney's blood -on her face.

"What have I done?" She whispered, so quietly Wes could barely hear her. He couldn't believe his ears; had she really just said that?

He was stunned for a few seconds, before he came to his senses. She was distracted. This was his chance. He could escape, and run. All he had to do was-

An arm wrapped around Mari's throat, and she was pulled off him. Wes was stunned for a few seconds, but quickly got to his feet. He saw Olivia, her eyes puffy, chocking Mari as the purple-haired woman clawed at her, trying to free herself.

Olivia looked up at him, and he saw the pain her eyes, before her expression hardened.

"RUN!" She yelled at him. "RUN, YOU IMBEICILE! RUN!"

Then Mari pulled her hair, and both women went toppling to the ground, clawing and biting each other as they rolled around in the mud. Wes stood there, paralyzed. 

All his instincts were telling him to run, to take Olivia's advice. But his empathy was telling him to stay. He already failed Courtney, who was probably dead. He couldn't just leave Olivia; not when she needed him most. 

Mari was obviously stronger than Olivia, and was overpowering her easily. Olivia's element of surprise had run out, and she was now fighting a losing battle. If Wes didn't intervene, who knew what Mari would so to his friend.

He scanned the ground, looking for anything that might help him. His eyes landed on Mari's baseball bat, lying forgotten in the mud. He raced over to it, grabbing it.

He turned, just in time to see Mari pin Olivia down. Olivia didn't even try to struggle; she just closed her eyes, giving up completely. At the time, Wes didn't know why, but he would later. Olivia had loved Courtney more than words could describe. She had needed her more than Death needed Life, than people needed air. A world without her was one Olivia could not bear to exist in, one she refused to.

Wes ran towards them, but didn't have enough time to save her. Mari raised her knife, and brought it into the other woman's chest repeatedly, crying as she did. Blood started to pour from Olivia's mouth, mixing into the mud beneath them.

Wes saw red. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hurt Mari, to make her pay for what she'd done to his friends, to his family. Before Mari could see him coming, he smashed the baseball bat into her head. Mari collapsed.

He raised the bat to hit her again, but his anger wore off, replaced with an overwhelming sadness. He dropped to his knees, pushing Mari off Olivia, grabbing the woman's wrist. He couldn't feel a pulse. She was gone.

Wes was silent for awhile, the only sound being the rain pounding on the three people on the ground. Then Wes started to sob; ugly, heart-breaking sobs that reverted around the trees. He buried his head in his hands, not being strong enough to look at Olivia's corpse anymore, at her glassy eyes staring up at him, at the friend he had been too late to save.

He cried for what felt like hours, not caring about the rain pounding into his skin, or the cold creeping up his bones.

 He sobbed until he had run out of tears. He shakily got to his feet, barely mustering the energy to stand, so consumed he was in his sadness. He averted his eyes from Olivia, scared that if he looked at her, he'd collapse.

Then his eyes trailed to Mari's unconscious body, her chest very obviously rising and falling, a bump on her head where he'd hit her. He hadn't killed her, it seemed.

He didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse.


	13. Tired

He nudged the unconscious woman's body with his foot.

She didn't stir, showing no signs of a reaction. If it weren't for her chest's rising and falling, Wes would've thought she was dead. She certainly looked the part; she wasn't moving, and there was some blood matted in her head around the spot where he'd hit her.

He was so emotionally exhausted, he could barely think straight at this point. He shoved his arms under Mari's body, lifting her up easily. He made his way to the cabin, carrying her along with him.

The second he walked through the door, he was met with a horrible sight; Courtney's body, lying in the kitchen. He placed Mari's body on the couch gently, before rushing over to his friend.

He grabbed her wrist, checking her pulse, a bubble of hope rising in his chest. If Mari had hit her as hard as Wes had hit Mari, then Courtney had a chance. She could still be alive!

He felt around her wrist for a long time, trying desperately to find something. But it was hopeless, and his hope fizzled out. There was no pulse; Wes should've accepted that the second he picked up Courtney's cold wrist. She was dead.

He dropped her wrist, breathing heavily. He quickly got back up, storming out the door, trying to not think about the blonde woman lying in the kitchen. He was going to get Olivia; he couldn't just leave her rotting in the rain. She deserved better than that, especially seeing as he was the one who caused this to happen to her.

It didn't take him long to find her body, sinking into the mud. He picked Olivia up, and brought her back into the cabin, lying her next to Courtney. He closed both women's eyes, before rushing upstairs, grabbing the blankets he'd dropped earlier. He wrapped the two women in them. It was too wet to bury them right now; he'd have to wait till the rain stopped.

He walked back into the living room, collapsing into one of the chairs, staring at Mari. What the hell was he going to do with her?

After everything she'd done, she didn't deserve his mercy. He should do to her what she did to his friend's; take her life. At least he'd have a proper reason to do so.

She was still holding her knife, drenched in Olivia's blood. He wrestled it out of her hands, before firmly grasping it in his own, bringing it up to Mari's neck, in the same spot where she had had it against his own a little over an hour ago.

He tried to steady his breathing, as his hand shook, trying to gain the confidence to do the deed. She deserved it. He knew she did. She was a psychopath, a monster. She'd taken Olivia and Courtney away from each other, away from _him._ A slit throat was too quick a death for her.

A tear rolled down his cheek, and he lowered the knife. He couldn't. No matter how hard he tried to talk himself into it, there was no way he could justify taking someone's life, especially if they couldn't defend themselves. Wes just had too much humanity in him.

It had always been one of the things his mother had hated about him. He couldn't count the number of times he'd come home with a black eye from the bullies at school, and she'd pulled him into his room, lecturing him about how he was too soft, how he'd have to defend himself. But he just never could; it was a lot easier to just take the pain than to inflict it on someone else. Of course, he never had a problem with defending Trenton; it was different when he was protecting someone.

But he wasn't protecting someone right now. And Wes just couldn't bring himself to do it, no matter what Mari had done. She could've stabbed him right now, and he wouldn't have been able to return the favor.

His immunity was wasted on him.

He picked Mari up again, leaning her against the railway leading up the stairs. He walked into the bathroom, finding the rope, before tying her up. He remembered his boy scout's lessons well, and used the most efficient knot he could recall.

Once he was sure there was no way she could escape, he collapsed against the wall, staring at her again. He didn't have the energy, or the motivation, to go back up to his bed. His eyes drifted shut, and he nodded off, not wanting to think about the murderer tied up in front of him, or the corpses of his friends lying in the neighboring room.

• • •

He woke up early the next morning. Mari wasn't awake yet, unmoved from the position he'd left her in, looking like she was taking a peaceful nap. He shakily got to his feet, staring out the window. The rain had stopped.

He made his way into the kitchen, grabbing some fruits from the fridge. Tears formed in his eyes as he glanced at the two bodies, wrapped in blankets. He'd have to bury them today. If he didn't, he was afraid he'd go mad.

He slipped on his shoes and exited the house. It didn't take him very long to find the shovel, residing under a tarp that had been strung up between four trees, covering the tool and countless other rustable items. He picked it up.

It didn't take him very long to find a spot. Courtney and Olivia had always loved the lake, spending a lot of their free time just sitting there or swimming. He couldn't count the number of times they'd come back from the body of water, dripping wet and laughing. If there was anywhere they'd want to be buried, it was there.

He picked a spot not too far from the cabin, right along the lakeshore, and started to dig. The ground was still wet from the rain, which made it harder to dig.

He dug for what felt like hours, as the sun beat down on his skin. Sweat ran down his face, but he didn't care. All he could focus on was his work; he needed to make sure that it was perfect. It was the least Courtney and Olivia deserved.

By the time he had finished, the sun was starting to set. He retrieved Courtney's body, laying it down in the grave, before getting Olivia's. He dug one grave, as he knew that the two women would've wanted to be buried together. They'd been inseparable in life, and they'd be inseparable in death. He laid them side-by-side and placed their hands together.

He couldn't bear to look at them very long, though they were still wrapped in the blankets. He started to fill in the grave, shoveling the dirt back into the ground. By the time he'd flattened the earth, the sun had set.

He shoved the shovel into the earth above them, marking the spot. He'd make them a proper gravestone later, when the sunlight returned.

"So," He clasped his hands together, tears brimming his eyes. "Courtney, you saved my life, and I couldn't be more grateful. The time I spent with you two was the best I've had in a long time. You two were the best friends a person could ask for. And- and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I put you in danger, that I brought Mari to us. You were the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I was the worst that had ever happened to you. I wish that there's a heaven, because I can't stand the thought of taking you two away from each other. I'm so sorry, Courtney, Olivia. I'm so, so sorry."

He stood there for a while, sobbing. It took all his strength to tear himself away from the scene, to leave them behind. He made his way back to the cabin, his eyes puffy and red.

He opened the door, sliding off his shoes and making his way into the kitchen. He made himself dinner (apples, nuts, and peaches), before making his way back up to his room. He couldn't bring himself to look at Mari, who was still knocked out.

He climbed into bed, not caring enough to get changed, to not spread dirt and blood through the bedding. He stared at the ceiling, feeling lifeless. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that they were gone.

Courtney and Olivia. The women who had loved each other more than anything. That had found happiness in the bleakest of times. That had helped a stranger, out of nothing but the goodness of their hearts.

The thought that they were gone gave him the utmost feeling of despair, worse than he'd ever felt throughout the entire past two years. Somehow, their deaths affected him more than the deaths of his own parents; and they had been eaten alive right in front of him, ripped limb from limb as he ran.

And now, all he had left was their murderer. His eyes trailed to Courtney's rifle, leaning against the wall. He made up his mind quickly, and grabbed it.

He stormed down the stairs, pointing the weapon at the purple-haired woman lying in front of him. The knife had been more personal. Maybe, this way, he would find the courage to end the life of the person sitting in front of him.

His finger clenched around the trigger, and both his hands shook. He could barely even aim at Mari, and when he did, he still couldn't bring himself to do it. To pull the trigger.

He'd always thought of his humanity as a strength. But right now, it felt like a weakness. David wouldn't have hesitated. Remina wouldn't have hesitated. Olivia wouldn't have hesitated. Mari wouldn't have hesitated, if their roles were reversed. It was only him, the only one too weak to pull the trigger.

He lowered the rifle, crying. He threw it to the side, hearing it crash into the wall, before falling to his knees, burying his head in his hands. What the hell was he going to do with her? If he released her, she'd just find him again. He'd never escape, never be able to live without constantly looking over his shoulder. Who knew how many other people he'd put in danger with her hunting him?

And if he couldn't kill her, then his only other choice was to keep her here, alive. He doubted that he would be able to live through that, living in the same house as his worst enemy, the woman who had single-handedly ruined his life. He'd go mad, and would probably throw himself off the roof.

He got to his feet, shakily going up the stairs, slowly. He didn't want to think anymore. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He needed to sleep, though he doubted that he'd be able to get a wink of it with all the demons that were haunting him.

Just when he thought it couldn't get worse, Wes heard groaning. He stopped in his tracks, instantly looking at the woman tied to the railing. Her head was slowly rising, as she took in her surroundings. She struggled against her bonds, running her fingers over the knot, but gave up quickly.

Wes closed his eyes. When would this end? When would this nightmare end? He was tired, and he just wanted it to stop. It seemed fate wasn't done with him, however, no matter how much he wished that it was. 

Mari turned to look at him, her black eyes showing no sign of shock. He stared back at her, defeated. Let her say what she wanted to. He was sick of fighting back.

She opened her mouth, and Wes was expecting some witty comment, some insult, something that was constructed to make him break. Instead, she asked one, simple question.

"Why haven't you killed me?"

Wes wished that he knew.

 


	14. Suprise

"I don't know," Wes replied truthfully.

Mari tilted her head, but didn't say a word. They stared at each other for awhile, before Wes tore his eyes away. The last thing he wanted to do right now was deal with her.

"Are you just going to leave me here?" She asked. "I don't quite see the point in that. Or the point in keeping me alive, really."

"Are you complaining?" Wes asked.

"A little," Mari replied, a smile spreading across her lips. "Idiocracy insults me, in a way. And keeping me alive is one of the most idiotic actions you could possibly perform. It's an insult to my intelligence."

There it was; that tart-tongued response that Wes had been waiting for. He had expected nothing less from the purple-haired beauty, who was staring at him with playful eyes. Sure, he might not know the most about Mari, but she was far from the type of person who would just take being tied up; he was sure of that.

"I don't have the energy to deal with this." He muttered, looking away from her once again and making his way back upstairs. It was a mistake coming down; he should've just stayed in bed. Sure, finding her awake in the morning would've been a nasty shock, but it would be no worse than what he was experiencing now. At least, then, he would've spent less time near the woman.

"Do you remember Joven?" She shouted, making him stop in his tracks at the top of the stairs. "Do you want to know what happened to him?"

Against his better judgment, Wes turned to face her, not saying a word. Of  _course_  he remembered Joven, the man who had saved his life. He had been hoping that Ian had never figured out what the black-haired man had done, but if Mari knew, then that hope was abolished.

"It wasn't too hard to figure out what he'd done," Mari explained, a smile tugging at her lips. "People saw him exiting the prison room, looking guilty. Combine that with the fact that we all knew about his poor wife, Katherine; a woman who had suffered the fate you were supposed to at the hands of another group, and it wasn't too hard to figure out what had happened. And when Ian found your cell empty, it didn't take him very long to find the culprit."

Mari's eyes were gleaming. "He strung Joven up in front of everyone, all three hundred of us, and skinned that poor bastard alive. He regretted it, kept begging for mercy. And boy, did he  _scream._ It was truly a sight to behold."

Wes will admit; Mari was very, very talented at manipulating people. He wanted nothing more than to go and beat the life out of her; and he would've, if he hadn't already known that was what she wanted him to do, and had the heart to hurt her. And he'd be damned if he gave her the satisfaction. 

He angrily stormed into his room, trying not to think about the interaction he'd just had. He had no doubt that she'd told him the truth; what reason could she have to lie?

Joven had died for him. Just like Courtney and Olivia had, and Keith, and David. The list was just getting longer and longer, and Wes couldn't help but wonder who would be next. Would it be wasting those people's lives if he ended it all right now, or would he be saving future acquaintances?

He quickly shook the thought from his mind. Suicide wasn't the answer. It never was. He had learned that from his brother, Trenton. If only his parents had believed him when he told them about his depression, and did something when the bullying got worse; something that Wes still blamed himself for. That wound still stung.

He couldn't succumb to his demons. He couldn't allow himself to. Wes was a fighter, and he was going to fight until his last breath. No matter how much the girl tied to the railway downstairs drove him mad.

• • •

His dreams were plagued by nightmares.

Olivia and Courtney's deaths kept playing in his head, on repeat, along with everyone else. Keith getting shot in the head. Remina screaming as her throat was ripped apart. David pushing him to the side to save him from an infected. His father pushing him off a roof before Wes' infected mother sunk her teeth into his shoulder. Finding Trenton's body. Getting the letter telling him that Brendon had been killed in battle. And, while he hadn't seen it, his imagination showed him Joven, getting his skin flayed off while hundreds of people cheered.

It just kept going on and on, as Wes watched everyone he loved die, helpless to save them. When his eyes finally fluttered open, Wes couldn't find the energy to climb out of bed, or the tears to cry. He'd been crying so much lately that he didn't have any left.

Eventually, he convinced himself to get out of bed. He had work to do, and if he didn't, he probably would've laid there forever.

Mari didn't say a word as he walked down the stairs, instead following him with her eyes, which had bags under them. He assumed that she hadn't gotten any sleep last night; it wasn't like he had left her in the most comfortable of positions.

 _Good. Let her suffer._  He thought, before immediately feeling guilty. He wasn't a cruel person, and he didn't like inflicting pain on anyone. But, at the moment, he couldn't think of any way that he could fix Mari's problem, and didn't even try to.

He made himself breakfast, before putting on his shoes and heading outside. The shovel implanted in the dirt stared back at him, reminding him of the task ahead of him. He quickly got to work. 

He gathered some of the firewood, using the longest pieces he could find; luckily, there were some that hadn't been cut yet, and were the perfect length. He nailed them together, making a cross, before nailing another piece of wood over it; neither of the women had been religious, and he thought it would be disrespectful to mark their grave with the symbol of a community they were not a part of.

Eventually, he had a star shape. He went back inside and grabbed the marker; as far as he knew, they didn't have any paint. He pressed the tip against the wood, and started to write.

_Here lies Olivia and Courtney Miller-Sui, two women who loved each other until the end._

His heart heavy, he carried the makeshift gravestone to the two women's grave, deplanting the shovel from the soil and impeding the wooden configuration in it's place. He stared at it for awhile, before making his way back inside.

He crossed out the date on the calender, a tradition that he swore to himself he was going to uphold, before sitting down at the kitchen table, wiping tears from his eyes. It was almost midday, and it took him awhile before he gathered the energy to eat lunch.

Then he was back outside. His arm hurt from the excursion it had already gone through, but Wes didn't care. He welcomed the pain; it was a distraction.

He finished harvesting the garden, before watering it with water from the river. He washed the dishes. Olivia had never taught him how to fish, but that wasn't a problem; Olivia and Courtney had enough canned foods to last two people ten years, and now there was only him. 

And Mari, he supposed, but he didn't want to think about that. About her staying here, possibly forever, with him. That thought was one that Wes kept pushing from his mind, one that he never truly wanted to confront.

By the time he was done, the sun was starting to set. He made his way back inside, and started making dinner, when he heard a cough from the next room. The sudden noise startled him, and he almost dropped his knife.

"There are a lot of easier ways to kill me than dehydration and starvation," Mari shouted, her voice echoing through the empty house. "If you want me to die a painful death, there are easier ways to do that, too."

Wes stopped, debating on whether or not he should respond. Begrudgingly, he grabbed a glass, and filled it with the boiled water Courtney had prepared a few days prior. He'd have to remember to refill it. It was one of the most essential lessons Courtney had taught him; always boil water before drinking it, as that was the only way to kill the bacteria that resided in the liquid.

He grabbed a peach from the fridge and laid the two items in front of Mari. 

She stared at them for a few seconds, before looking up at him, her eyebrow raised. "And how am I supposed to eat this?"  
  
Wes shrugged. She could figure something out; he didn't want to deal with her right now. he walked back into the kitchen, and started making himself some dinner.

"Like Tantalous' punishment," He heard her mutter. He got the reference; he had loved Greek mythology as a boy, studying the old myths like a pastor studied the bible. His brother, Brendan, and he used to act them out, performing little plays for their parents and brother. Their mother had hated them, but their father had loved them.

He drank his soup, staring out the window as he did so. A flea had flown in at some point, and was buzzing around his head. He trained his eyes on it, watching it loop around in the air.

He finished his soup, and placed the bowl in the sink. When he looked at Mari, he was greeted with a shocking sight; she had taken off her shoes and socks somehow, and had the glass grasped between her feet, which were holding it against her mouth. A peach pit lay forgotten on the floor.

She caught him watching her, and smiled. It seemed like this woman could do anything.  
  
"I was a ballerina when I was younger," She explained, though he hadn't asked. "I've always been flexible."

Wes didn't want to deal with it. He made his way back to his room, when he felt something hit the back of his head. He looked down, and saw the peach pit lying on the stair under his. Mari had a mischievous look on her face.

The woman was just full of surprises, it seemed. And later, as he lied in bed, he wondered how many she had in store for him.

 


	15. Roommates

Wes hadn't slept last night.

His thoughts had been tormented by the ghosts of his past, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fall asleep. Seeing as he couldn't get any medication, which was what he used to do when he had this problem, he had no choice but to lie there until the sun rose.

He groggily got out of bed, heading downstairs. Mari was asleep, her head lolled to the side, snoring softly. In the moment, Wes was jealous; his eyes felt like they were going to drop any second, but when he sat down at the kitchen table and let them, he still didn't fall asleep. It had only been a few minutes, and it was already driving him mad.

He somehow managed to make himself breakfast, and get dressed. By then, Mari had woken up, but she didn't say a word; instead, she watched him, tracking his every move with her eyes. It was unsettling.

Wes made his way outside, making a beeline to the river, and splashed some cold water on his face. It helped, though not by much. Still, it was better than before, and Wes counted that as a win.

He watered the plants, before stopping. He didn't know what he should do next. He had already handled all the outdoor tasks, and all the indoor ones, such as sewing and cleaning, were irrelevant to his survival, which meant there was no way Wes could convince himself to perform them. Which left him with nothing to do. 

Wes made his way back inside, kicking off his shoes and storming upstairs. He heard Mari start to say something, but ignored her. He shut the curtains, and climbed into bed, letting his eyelids shut. This time, thankfully, he finally dozed off.

• • •

He woke up to the sound of clanging.

He shot out of bed, and ran downstairs, to find Mari  _gone._  The only indication that she'd ever been there were the ropes that used to hold her,  which were laying on the ground, cut in half.

Wes stared at them for a long time, his heart racing. She'd escaped. Who knew where she could be by now; for all he knew, she was waiting for him behind a corner, her baseball bat raised, ready to do to him what she did to Courtney.

"Do you want soup or salad?"  
  
Wes almost jumped out of his skin. He turned, and saw Mari, leaning against the doorway leading into the kitchen, a can of soup in one hand and a lettuce head in another. She gave him a smile.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement. He had expected her to run, or kidnap him, or... do anything besides this, honestly speaking. He definitely didn't expect to see her in the kitchen, offering to make him dinner.

In all honesty, Wes didn't know how to react. He stood there, flabbergasted, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of a comeback.

"Well, soup it is then," Mari said casually, like this was something that happened every day. "I hate salad. Too much work."

She turned and walked back inside the room. That was when Wes snapped back into reality. He rushed after her, grabbing her wrist and turning her to face him. She grinned up at him, which filled Wes with the urge to hit her.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Me pulling my weight," She replied, tilting her head to the side. "I should do my share, shouldn't I? After all, we're roommates now."

"We're not roommates," Wes replied instantly.

"I'm not the one who kept me alive, buddy," She smiled. "You choose this, really. You're stuck with me now."

"You're not staying here," Wes let go of her wrist, noticing that he was clutching it so hard that her hand was starting to turn purple. If Mari had been in pain, she hadn't show it.

"If you want me to leave, you'll have to kill me," She replied, turning back to her work. She already had the propane gas stove on, and had a pot resting on it. She started to pour in the soup. "It's not too late."

Wes didn't know what to say for a few seconds, but quickly thought of a question. "How did you free yourself?"

"I keep knives in my boots," She replied, not even turning to face him. "And strapped to other parts of my body. You should've frisked me first."  
  
Of _course_ she did. Wes should've been expecting that. Mari seemed like the kind of girl who would have a weapon on her at all times. Wes mentally slapped himself for not thinking about that earlier.

"Why haven't you kidnapped me already?" He asked. Might as well get the hard question out of the way. Mari would have no trouble beating him in a fight right now, seeing as she was armed and he wasn't. It was only a matter of time before she took him back to her leader, and Wes was used as her group's water fountain.

"Oh, I'm not going back to Ian," She gave him a smile. "I'm pretty sure he was growing suspicious, and if he figured out, well... it's not worth the risk. After all, you've given me a lot of time to think about it."  
  
"Figure out what?" Wes asked, his eyebrows narrowing. If Mari had some big secret, he wanted to know what it was. For all he knew, she was addicted to setting people on fire. Wes was expecting anything at this point.

"That's for me to know," She turned, placing her hands on her hips. "And you not to."

Wes would've pressed it, but he knew her well enough to know that there was no point. If her annoying smile was any indicator, Mari wasn't going to budge.

"So if you're not going back to Ian," Wes asked. "What's your plan, then?"  
  
"The only reason I was with that golden-toothed fool and his gang of morons was because they had resources that I needed, and it was more than easy to pull my weight," She replied. "And this quaint little cabin has everything I could've asked for. There's no reason for me to leave. You're stuck with me, buckaroo."  
  
"Whoa whoa whoa," Wes shook his head. "Slow down. You aren't staying here."

"Like I said before," Mari reached into her pocket, conjured a knife, and flicked it towards him. Wes instinctively jerked away, before realizing she was holding the blade, almost like she was offering the weapon to him. "The only way you can get rid of me is if you kill me."

The two of them stood there silently, as Wes stared at the object in her hands. It would be easy to take it, but Wes knew that if he couldn't bring himself to kill her when she was unconscious, then there was no way he'd be able to kill her when she wasn't. Sensing this, Mari smiled knowingly and slipped the knife back into her pocket.

"Glad to see we're in agreement," She stated. "Now take a seat. Dinners almost ready."

Wes begrudgingly did as she asked, still shocked by what was happening. Mari cooking for him... that just seemed so out of place in his mind. Yet here she was, doing just that. Wes didn't know how he should feel about that.

"Hope you like chicken noodle," She said as she laid a bowl in front of him, a spoon already sitting in it, before sitting down across from him. Wes brought the spoon to his lips, but lowered it when he realized the liquid was piping hot. Mari, however, drank hers immediately, not showing any signs of pain. Wes was starting to think that this woman was a demon.

"So, have you always had depression, or is it something you've developed recently?" She asked after she finished her soup.

Wes almost dropped his spoon. "What?"

Mari rolled her eyes. "Oh, C'mon, I'm not blind. You look like you're dead, and there have been times where you haven't gotten out of bed hours after I hear you wake up. If you're not depressed, you're sure acting like you are."

Wes hadn't even thought of that. But now that she was saying it, those thoughts started to creep into his mind. Maybe he  _did_  have depression. He sure hasn't felt happiness since Olivia and Courtney died, but then again, he didn't have any reason to be. But it was a possibility; there was no doubt about that. 

"Well, maybe I developed it after you killed my best friends right in front of me," Wes shouted angrily. "Because you wanted to kidnap me, or have you forgotten that?"  
  
Mari's face fell for a few seconds, and Wes swore he saw something- regret, maybe, or guilt -in Mari's eyes. But then her expression hardened. "I remember, yes. And I regret it."  
  
"I don't believe you," Wes replied.

"I don't know why you would," She stated.

They finished their meal in silence. Mari stood up, and put her bowl in the sink.

"I'll be sleeping on the coach, I assume?" She asked, leaning against the fridge, crossing her arms.

Wes hadn't even thought about the woman's sleeping arrangements. The only other bed in the house was Olivia and Courtney's, and he'd be damned if he was going to let their murderer sleep in their bed. In fact, if he had it his way, no one would ever go in that room again. For some reason, he felt like it shouldn't be disturbed.

"Yes," He replied, before drinking what remained of his soup.

"Okay," She replied, taking an apple out of the fridge and eating it. "What's your name, by the way? I'm Mari."

It dawned on Wes that they'd never even had a formal introduction; he only knew her name from when Ian had said it. He'd been calling her that for so long in his head, that he'd never even thought about the possibility that she didn't know his name, despite the fact that there was no way that she could've.

"I know," Wes replied. "I'm Wes."  
  
"Short for Wesley?" She asked. "Mine's short for Mariko."  
  
"Yeah," He replied. "Short for Wesley."  
  
She smiled at him. "Well, nice to know your name, Wes. See you tomorrow."

And with that, she exited the room, walking into the living room. He watched her go, his throat tight. Somehow, her not knowing his name made the whole situation ten times worse. She'd hunted him down, spent over a month tracking him, yet she didn't know that simple fact about him.

He put his bowl in the sink and made his way back upstairs, hearing her start to set up her bed. He got undressed, and climbed into his bed.

He didn't like this. He didn't like the thought of her being in the house, free. For all he knew, she was going to slit his throat in his sleep and bring his blood back to Ian in water bottles.

Yet, somehow, he had a feeling that she wasn't. That she was telling the truth when she said that she wasn't going back to Ian. And, hate it though he may, he had to admit that he had enjoyed talking to her, no matter how morbid the conversation may have been. He had felt extremely lonely the past few days, and her presence was a cure to that, despite the fact that he hated her.

"Make sure to get your sleep!" He heard her shout from downstairs. "It helps with depression!"

Why was she doing this? This Mari, the one who cooked because she wanted to do her share of the housework and gave him tips about his wellbeing, she was so different from the Mari he had in his head, who killed and ate people for fun. He preferred this Mari over the latter, but the sudden personality change unsettled him; it felt out of place. How many things had he assumed about the purple-haired woman that he'd gotten wrong? Who was the real Mariko?  
  
Wes hated not knowing. Little did he know, soon, he'd figure out more about the woman than he'd ever thought he would.


	16. Shared

He awoke to sunlight shining on his face.

Wes shielded his eyes with his arm, groaning in annoyment. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and got out of bed. He got dressed, and went downstairs.

The kitchen was deserted, as was the living room. Wes searched the house, but Mari was nowhere to be seen. He started panicking. Mari had probably run off, so she could come back with Ian and a hundred other people. He shouldn't have trusted her.

He heard the door open, and let out a sigh of relief. Mari was standing in the doorway, a bundle of fish in her hands. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

"Did ya miss me?" She asked jokingly, nudging him with her shoulder as she walked past him.

"No," Wes said, defending himself. Mari laughed.

He followed her into the kitchen, where she was throwing the fish into the fridge. "How long have you been up for?"

"Two hours?" Mari shrugged. "Possibly three?"

"What?" Wes asked. "The sun's barely risen!"

"I'm a morning person," Mari stated.

Wes rolled his eyes and opened the cupboard, grabbing a can of soup. Mari slapped his arm.

"What the hell?" He asked.

"Save the canned foods for winter," She scolded him. "Eat something from the fridge."

"You made soup yesterday!"

"That was yesterday. Today's today."

Wes sighed. "You're not my mother, Mari. I'll eat the damned soup if I want to."

Faster than he could blink, Mari pressed her arm against his neck, pushing him into the wall. She was applying just enough pressure to keep him pinned, but not enough to stop him from breathing.

"No, you won't," She grinned.

Wes didn't reply, grabbing her arm and pushing her off of him. He couldn't help but feel weak; if she had tried, she could've strangled him, right there and them. He knew that. And it was terrifying.

He put the can of soup back and grabbed a peach from the fridge, sat down, and started to eat. Mari gave him a smile, before grabbing the dish bucket, and starting to load it with dishes from the sink. It seemed like she had already figured out how things worked around here, though Wes didn't know how.

She left the room, leaving him alone. He heard the door open and close. He leaned back in his chair, sinking his teeth into the fruit.

He didn't like this. He didn't like this... arrangement they had, if you could even call it that. She had shown up, killed Courtney and Olivia, and was now running the place like she'd been here from the get-go. He didn't like it one bit.

• • •

Mari had been here for a week.

They'd pretty much settled into a routine. She'd wake up three hours before him, and do whatever she felt like needed to be done. Wes would do whatever he wanted. The only thing they did together was eating meals, while having pointless conversations.

That was what they were doing right now. Wes poked at the cooked fish in front of him, as Mari cut her's up. They'd been having fish rather often, paired with fruits. Mari argued that they should eat everything that could rot before it became unedible, and Wes agreed with her. It didn't make the situation any better, however.

He watched Mari eat. She had her hair done up in a braid, draped over her shoulder. The light of the sunset shined on her, bringing out the purple in her hair.

"How did you know how to find me?" Wes asked, causing Mari to stop eating.

"I was a bounty hunter," She replied. "For the LAPD."

"A what?" Wes asked.

"A bounty hunter," She replied. "You know, someone who tracked down people who were out on bail and didn't show up on their court date. You're far from the first person I've had to track through a forest. I also hunted in my spare time."

"I thought you were a ballerina?" He asked.

"I was," She replied. "When I was younger. I stopped when I was fifteen, mainly because I wanted to get into more physical sports."

"Like?" Wes asked.

"Roller derby, mainly," She replied. "And a little bit of woman's rugby. Then I went to collage, and pretty much gave everything up."

"And studied law, I assume?" Wes asked.

Mari nodded. "Enough about me. What were you?"

"I wanted to be a History Professor," Wes replied. "But then the war started, and I joined the army."

"I knew I recognized you from somewhere!" Mari said excitedly.

"What?" Wes asked.

"I joined the army too!" Mari replied. "You were Maddog Wes, weren't you?"

That was news to Wes. He was surprised that Mari hadn't caught his attention while he was there, with her physical appearance. He and David had used to talk about the female soldiers; he was surprised neither of them had brought her up. Of course, he supposed it was a possibility that they did, and he just didn't remember. He and David had always been attracted to strong women, and they had come in abundant supply at their training facility.

Wes smiled at the old nickname. He had got it from his skill in hand-to-hand combat. "Yeah, I was."

She smiled. "Yeah. You were a sight to behold."

Wes laughed at that. "Was I?"

Mari chuckled. "You have no idea. We all used to talk about you in the barracks;  _oh, did you see Maddog Wes today? So hot! Omg, girl, I know. I wish he'd wrap those hands around my neck."_

"What?" Wes asked, astonished that anyone had said that.

"Yeah, Boze was weird like that," Mari replied, smiling. "That girl had the  _weirdest_ kinks; I swear I couldn't even get into it. Did none of you talk about hot girls?"

"Well, of course we did," Wes replied. "We're only human."

"Did I ever make the cut?" She asked playfully.

"Probably," Wes replied. "Just look at you!"

Mari laughed, and Wes' face lit up as he realized what he'd just said.

"You're not so hard on the eyes yourself, Wesley," She said lowly, which sent shivers up Wes' spine. He didn't quite know how the conversation had gotten to this point, but he wanted to bring it to a stop.

"Haha, yeah," Wes scratched the back of his neck. Mari laughed at his obvious embarrassment, before finishing off her fish. She put her plate in the sink.

"I'll see you tomorrow," She told him, before exiting the room. "Goodnight."

"Yeah, you too," Wes muttered, his mind reeling. What had just happened? Had he seriously just told Mari she was attractive, straight to her face? And had she really returned the compliment?

He thought about it as he ate, quickly finishing his fish, before practically running up to his room. He quickly undressed and climbed into his bed.

Mari was a murderer. He couldn't forget that. She's done terrible, terrible things. Even if they had gone to the same boot camp, or shared a mutual attraction for one another. She was a horrible person, and he hated her.

Right?


	17. Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite *ahem* mature. You have been warned. If you're skipping, read the last sentence. It's important.

Mari had been there for at least a month

Neither of them had brought up that conversation; the one where they'd talked about their pasts. They acted like it had never happened. Wes couldn't be more grateful for that. Whenever he thought about it, his cheeks burned.

He'd learned a lot about the purple-haired girl, though not from her words. Mari always spoke with so much sarcasm and humor that it was hard to believe anything she was saying. But her actions; those were an entirely different story.

She'd help out. A lot. Whenever she saw that he was having trouble with something, she'd offer a helping hand, though Wes usually turned her down. He was used to working independently, and it seemed that she preferred to work that way, too, as she never asked for his help on any of her personal tasks. Not that it mattered; Wes was usually asleep when she performed them.

But what told him the most about her, however, was when he caught her kneeling next to Courtney and Olivia's grave, weeping. Well, he hadn't caught her, to say. He'd seen her, through the front window. After he saw that, he solved the mystery of who had been leaving wildflowers. like dandelions, in front of the tombstone.

That was when Wes started to trust her. When he let go of any worries that she was going to betray him, was going to hand him over to Ian. He was glad he did. It was a lot easier to spend time with her, talk to her, without having to worry that she was going to stab him in the back.

And while he'd never completely forgive her for killing Courtney and Olivia, he didn't hate her anymore for it. He didn't hate her at all, in fact. She'd talked a lot about Ian; how he was a terrifying ruler, who killed whoever disobeyed or angered him. He could understand why she'd been so eager to kidnap him; the consequences for failing would be dire, so dire that she hadn't considered the possibility of running away, of never going back, until Wes tied her up and gave her time to think. The thought made Wes happy, in a way; he'd freed her.

They were sitting at the dinner table, eating the classic; fish. Thankfully, Mari had found some sort of herb in the forest, and had ground it into a spice. She'd also crushed up some berries and added it to the water she'd cooked the fish in. Tonight, the meal was more than edible; it was delightful.

Suddenly, a thought crossed Wes' mind. In the chaos of everything, he hadn't thought about Matthew or Monica, or anyone else at camp. What had happened to them?

"Mari?" He asked, causing the woman to freeze with her fork inches away from her mouth. If anyone could tell him, it was her. "What happened to the people at my camp?"

Mari slowly put down her fork. "Do you really want to know?"  
  
Wes nodded. 

Mari let out a sigh. "Wes, I've told you how Ian's temper gets. When you escaped, he was so mad... you know what happened to Joven. That was just the beginning.

"He sent Noah, Shayne, and Damien to your camp. Noah could barely hurt a fly, but Shayne and Damien... they were killing machines. The trauma those two suffered in the past had turned them into psychopaths. And Ian... well, Ian gave them permission to do whatever they wanted to the inhabitants of your camp, as long as they didn't do anything to the outer walls."

She looked Wes in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Wes. I'm so, so sorry."

Wes was silent for a long time, as he took in her words. Matthew, Monica, Anthony, Sarah, and so many more... all dead. Because of him. Just more names to add to the ever-growing list.

Rage consumed him as stood up, kicked the wall, ran his fingers through his hair. He could feel Mari's eyes on him, and turned to face her.

"You!" He yelled. "This is your fault! You're the one who told Ian what I was! You're the one who did this to them!"

Mari was on her feet faster than he could blink, her chair flying across the room from the quickness of her action. "Do you really think I wanted that! To have all those innocent people die? It was only supposed to be you!"  
  
"How is that any better?" He yelled. "What did I do to deserve that?"  
  
"Because that was the only reason Ian was keeping me around!" Mari backed him into the wall, digging her finger into his chest. "I told him I could find him an immune, and I did. I was just trying to survive!"

Wes stared down at her, his anger slowly dissipating. She stared up at him angrily, her purple hair falling messily over her shoulders. Her expression started to relax, and her finger dropped, until they were both just staring at each other.

Wes didn't know what it was, but somehow, they both felt it. He knew they were both physically attracted to each other, but this... this was different. This was something he hadn't felt since Remina died.

They both moved at the same time, crashing their lips together. Mari pushed him harder into the wall, until Wes wrapped his arms around her waist, easily picking her up, and switched their positions. She didn't seem to mind, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

They didn't stay like that for long. With her lips against his, her chest pressed against him, and her thighs wrapped around his own, Wes couldn't contain himself. His animalistic instincts took over as he kissed her hungrily, their tounges fighting for dominance inside each other's mouths. He wanted more. _Needed_  more.

Mari seemed to be having the same thoughts. She pushed him, making him let go of her, while keeping her mouth against his. There was no way they were making it up the stairs, and into Wes' bed. They'd left their want for each other bottled up for too long, and now that they were letting it out, there was no containing it.

They barely made it to the coach before Wes' shirt was off, and Mari's hands were roaming his torso, feeling his muscles. Wes started fiddling with the buttons on her shirt, but seeing as his mind was going crazy with hormones, it took him some time. Eventually, he managed to take the piece of clothing off of her, leaving his torso naked in front of him, save from her bra.

That clothing article didn't last very long. Mari's hands snaked behind her back, unhooking the clasp, and throwing it across the room. Wes' breath caught in his throat as he stared at her, taking in her physique. She was perfect, like she'd been carved out of marble, and Wes couldn't stop himself from touching her.

By that point, Mari had unbuckled his jeans, and had started pulling the fabric down his legs. Wes helped her, kicking them off, before starting to unbuckle her's. Soon, there was only one article of clothing on either of them, and those didn't last long.

A shiver ran up Wes' spine as Mari touched him, slowly directing him into her. Wes moaned as he slipped into her, and Mari gasped. While Wes' wasn't that big, she'd never been with anyone so... well endowed. Luckily, she was aroused enough to take it.

She started to move, riding the man below her. Wes looked at her as she did, breathing heavily as waves of pleasure shot up his body. She looked beautiful, sweat sliding down her body, panting in pleasure.

Neither of them lasted very long. It had been so long since Wes had so much as touched himself, let alone been with a woman, that he couldn't contain himself. He felt himself quicking, and brought his fingers down to her womanhood, starting to rub. He would be damned if he didn't make her feel as much pleasure as he did.

He came first, moaning as he did. Seconds after, she did too, leaning her head back in pleasure. Wes had never seen anything as beautiful as she looked in that moment, as pleasure overrode her body.

Seconds later, she collapsed onto him, breathing heavily. Wes wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She nuzzled her head into his neck, before closing her eyes.

Wes laid there for a bit, watching her, as she slowly fell asleep, her breaths evening out. He brushed her hair out of her face, kissed her forehead, and drifted into oblivion.

• • •

For the first time in forever, Wes woke up before her.

Sunlight streamed into his eyes from the open window. He turned away from it, shielding his eyes with his hand, finding himself face-to-face with Mari, who looked more peaceful than Wes had ever seen her. He could feel her warm breath on his neck.

He kissed her forehead. He would've stayed there forever if he could, holding her, but he knew he couldn't. Using all of his willpower, he slowly climbed out from under her, careful not to wake her up. It took him awhile to find all of his clothes, which had been thrown in every possible direction, draping themselves over and behind the pieces of furniture littering the living room. Eventually, he managed to, and got dressed.

He glanced back at Mari. He didn't quite know how he felt about her. Yesterday, he'd acted almost entirely out of lust. And while he didn't regret it, he certainly didn't love her. At least, he didn't think he did. When it came to her, he was just... confused. With Remina, it had been easy; he'd known exactly how he felt about her almost immediately. But Mari... Mari was a mystery, one that he was determined to figure out. Whatever it was, he liked it.

He should make breakfast, for once; seeing as she woke up before him, she almost always did. It would be a nice surprise for her to wake up to, a sign that things had changed. After all, they had. They couldn't just go back to the way they had been; not after last night.

His eyes trailed down her naked torso, taking in the sight; she was just so beautiful, he couldn't help but look at her. He doubted that any man could've.

Then something caught his eye.

He stepped closer to examine it. Mari was covered in many scars, peppering her light skin, but there was one that caught Wes' eye. On the side of her stomach, right under her ribcage, was a bite mark, which looked like it was at least a year old. It must've been deep, as the details of the teeth were quite visible. He was surprised he hadn't seen it last night; then again, he'd been quite distracted with the rest of her.

For a few seconds, Wes was confused; who the hell would've bitten her so hard that it would leave a scar? Most people didn't have the stomach for that, or see the need for it. Your mouth wasn't a very effective weapon. 

It didn't take very long for the answer to dawn on him; after all, he had an almost identical mark on his calf. There was only one creature out there who would feel the need to bite her like that, and it was in infected.

The realization hit him like a smack to the face. Suddenly, everything made sense. Why she'd promised Ian that she could find an immune. How she'd known he was one, just by looking at him. He must've had something, unique to immunes, that she'd observed. And she'd know exactly what that looked like, because she had it herself.

There was no other explanation, no other possibility. Wes stood there, paralyzed, as it sunk in.

_Mari was immune._


	18. Truth

Mari woke up groggily. She expected to find Wes under her, but to her surprise, all she could feel was the soft leather of the coach. She slowly sat up, surveying the room. He was nowhere to be found.

She found her clothes and got dressed. He never got up before her; it was part of their routine. Something was... off. She could feel it in her gut, and she didn't like it.

Maybe last night had been a mistake. She leaned against the wall, resting her head on her hands, and sighed. Sure, she'd wanted to fuck him since boot camp, but if she had known that she'd lose him by doing so, she never would've done it.

She searched the house, checking all the places where he usually stayed. The kitchen, the bathroom, his room. All empty. It was like he had just... disappeared.

She grabbed an apple out of the fridge and leaned against the fridge, thinking. Where else could he be? She doubted that he had just left; even if he did regret sleeping with her, it wasn't like him to just disappear.

 _He's probably just outside,_  she reassured herself. Maybe he was worried that he got her pregnant, though he didn't have to; she got her tubes tied a long time ago. And, to her knowledge, she didn't have any STD's. 

She slipped on her shoes and threw on her jacket, exiting the cabin. It didn't take her to long to spot him, sitting near the lake, throwing rocks into the water. She wearily approached him; she'd never seen him act like this before.

He heard her coming, and stopped throwing rocks. She stood there for awhile, not saying a word, as the wind blew through her hair. Wes sighed.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" He asked, not even looking at her.

"Tell you what?" She asked.

"That you were immune," He replied, picking up another rock.

Realization washed over her _. Shit._ She hadn't even thought of that. He must've seen her bite; it wasn't like she had made any attempt to cover it. She wanted to slap herself for her stupidity. Everything had been so good, so perfect, and she'd fucked it all up.

"Wes-" She started, but he cut her off.

"You never were going to, were you?" He asked. "You were never going to tell me."  
  
She didn't say a word, which was an answer all in itself. A tear rolled down her face. He was all she had. She couldn't lose him. Not when they just started something together, though she wasn't quite sure what it was yet. But she wanted to figure it out. She wanted him.

"How'd you get it?" He asked. "Tell me that, at least. Tell me how you got bit."

Mari was quiet for a few seconds. The memory was painful, one she hadn't thought about for months, one she didn't want to think about.

"My friend turned," Mari explained. "Boze. I think I mentioned her before. She was bit, and I tried so hard to save her, even though she kept pushing me away. I didn't listen. I wanted so desperately to help her, but there was no hope. She turned, and she bit me, and I was forced to stab her."

"And you didn't change," Wes laminated.

Mari nodded, tears rolling down her eyes. "Just like you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, finally looking at her. She could see the pain in his eyes. "Did you not trust me?"  
  
"No!" Mari replied immediately. "I trust you. It's just... I was scared. I was scared that you would hate me if you knew."  
  
"Why?" Wes asked.

"Because I betrayed people like us," Mari replied. "Ian isn't the first person I promised I'd bring an immune. I've done it three times by now. The other groups found out, and I was forced to flee. I was worried that you'd kick me out too."

Thier faces flashed in her mind. Stephanie Patrick, the scientist whom Mari had seen distributing gas masks. Eugene Lee Yang, who had told her after they both got drunk. And the third... Mari had never even learned her name.

"I would  _never_  kick you out," Wes said passionately. "You mean far too much to me for me to ever do that."

"Really?" She asked in disbelief, her voice cracking. No one had cared about her in a long, long time.

"Really," He replied, standing up. "But I can't help but feel a little betrayed, Mari. I care about you, and you kept this a secret from me. I... I need some time."  
  
He started walking away from her, back towards the cabin. Mari stood there, watching him, before dropping to her knees, and starting to sob. She'd fucked it up. She'd fucked up everything, and now she was probably going to lose him. What was she going to do now? She had nowhere to go, and if Wes kicked her out, she didn't think she'd have the heart to fight him.

She traced her scar through her shirt, thinking of Boze. She started crying harder. What would Boze; short, stubborn, caring Boze, think of her if she saw her now? Boze had always been the independent type, who only ever depended on herself, the kind of girl who was the shoulder to cry on, but never the crier. She doubted that Boze would be able to even recognize Mari now; she was a murder, a woman who lied to the people she loved, a woman who never gave any support to anyone but herself, and even then, she did a horrible job.

Mari stood up, and ran into the forest. When she was a little girl, she had lived near the forest, and had almost gone in it daily. Her father had been taking her on hunting trips since she was seven. The forest was familiar, comforting, like returning to her childhood home.

Mari ran for a while, not caring about getting lost. She'd be able to find her way back; she was sure of it. She ran until her lungs hurt and her legs felt numb, before she slumped down against a tree.

She took some deep breaths, surveying her scenery. She was deep in the forest, where the trees were so thick that sunlight hardly shone through, except for in the breaks. Those parts were beautiful, illuminating the ground, making even the grass look enchanting.

Mari sighed, leaning her head back against the trunk. She spotted a chipmunk in the higher branches, and gave it a weak smile, trying to cheer herself up. It looked at her curiously, and she waved at it.

She sat there for awhile, thinking, mainly about Wes. When had things gotten so complicated? It was so much easier, when she was just hunting him, desperately looking for his footprints in the mud, trying to find out in which directions he would go. Back then, she didn't have to deal with her feelings, or her morality. She had convinced herself that it was necessary, that she needed to do it to survive. 

But while things had been simpler, the time she'd spent with Wes had been even more so; enjoyable, even. She had had a soft place to sleep, someone to talk to who didn't see her as an outsider. And while her feelings of regret over killing those two women- something she hadn't, and never would, forgive herself for -had almost destroyed her, Mari was glad that she had spent that time with Wes. It had made her the happiest she'd been since Boze died.

She looked up at the sky, and sighed. Soon, the sun would start to set. She'd have to head back. She stood up, brushed the dirt off her pants, and started making her way back. Seeing as her footprints were fresh, and she had known what direction she'd come from, she had no worries about getting back before nightfall. 

By the time the sun had set, she could hear the river. She must've wandered off course a little, as she found herself behind the cabin, not to the left of it. It didn't matter. She found her way back, which was all that-

Her line of thinking was cut off as she felt the cold metal of a knife, pressed against her throat. She froze.

"Hello, Mari," The person holding the knife whispered in her ear. Mari recognized her voice. It was Pamela Horton, Ian's lover. Mari tried to keep herself calm, but it was next to impossible. If Pamela was here, then Ian wasn't too far behind.

She was right. People started to emerge from the shadows, holding weapons in their hands. Mari recognized most of them; Shayne, a few fresh scars covering his face. Damien, carrying his two swords that were stained with dried blood. Noah, looking at her with pity in his eyes. Miel, her blonde hair pulled back in a short ponytail. When Mari had last seen her, she hadn't been trusted enough to hold a gun. But the long rifle in Miel's hands proved that the woman had moved up a few ranks. Mari wondered if it was because Miel had helped the rest find her and Wes.

And, of course, him. Her breath caught in her throat as he emerged, his golden tooth shining in the moonlight as he grinned at her, a smile that sent shivers down her spine. Just the sight of him filled her with fear; she'd seen the things he'd done, and now, she was going to be on the receiving end of them. There was no chance that he wouldn't punish her for betraying him, especially on this level. She would end up like Joven... if she was lucky.

Ian walked up to her, brushing her face with his hand. Mari instinctively jerked away from his touch, which caused Pamela to dig her knife deeper into Mari's throat, drawing blood. Mari didn't know if Pamela had done that as a warning or just for the sadistic joy of it. Maybe both.

"Mari, Mari, Mari," Ian clicked his tongue every time he said her name. "I had so much hope in you. Everyone was all like  _'don't trust that Mari chick! She just showed up here, making false promises that she couldn't keep! She'd going to betray you!'_ yet I ignored all of them, even Pamela, because I had faith in you. And this is how you repay me?"

He gingerly touched her face again, smiling at her sadly. For a second, Mari tricked herself into thinking that he was actually sad, hurt by her betrayal, forgetting momentairly that Ian was nothing if not an amazing actor. Then, faster than she could blink, he curled his hand into a fist and slammed it into her face.

She shrieked in pain, and Pamela removed the knife just in time before she crumbled, falling to her knees. She brought her hands up to her face, and when she brought them down, her pale palms were red with blood. If she had to guess, she'd say that Ian broke her nose, as the pain shooting up her face was much more intense than any punch she'd ever taken.

Ian kneeled down and grabbed her hair, pulling her up to look at him. She whimpered in fear; she didn't care about her pride. She was terrified, and it showed, with her petrified expression and blood flowing down her face.

"I don't know what that man did to turn you against me, but he's going to pay for it," Ian grinned, wiping blood off her face with his other hand in an almost tender gesture. "We're going to burn that little cabin down, with him inside it. And then you're going to find us a new immune, and this time, I won't be letting you out of my sight."

He let go of her hair, and Mari's head slumped down. Tears started to roll down her face, landing on the ground soundlessly.

Ian stood up. "Noah, Shayne, Damien! Get the gasoline. Pamela, tie this bitch up and make sure she can't escape. Miel, come with me."

Mari knew the effect he had on his men. Everyone split up, running to complete the tasks he'd assigned them as fast as they could. Pamela grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet.

"Try anything, and I'll-" She started, but Mari didn't let her finish.

"WES!" She yelled, struggling against Pamela's hold on her, hoping beyond hope that he could hear her. "WES, RUN! IAN'S FOUND-"

She was cut off by Pamela's knife, which the woman was pressing so hard into her skin Mari was scared that she'd cut her windpipe. "Say another word and you'll never breath again."

Mari froze, letting the woman tie up her hands, before tying her to a tree. She knew Pamela didn't make empty threats; she couldn't count the number of times she'd seen the black-haired woman cut open someone's neck, infected or non-infected. She was just as brutal as her lover.

Pamela shoved a sock into her mouth, before joining the rest of Ian's men, who were already making their way towards the cabin. Mari watched them go, their forms slowly disappearing into the night.

She tried to wiggle out of her restraints, but it was no use; Pamela knew what she was doing. She tried to scream, but with the gag, all that came out were muffled sounds that she doubted could be heard from two meters away, let alone a mile. Tears started to roll down her face as she desperately tried to push the gag out of her mouth, to no avail.

She could only hope that Wes had heard her, because if he hadn't... she didn't even want to think about it. She couldn't lose him. She couldn't! There must be some way out of this-

Pain shot up her leg, causing her to stop kicking and struggling for a few seconds. Then she remembered; her backup knife, the one she always kept in her boot. It must've cut her, almost like it had been reminding her of its presence. She froze, a plan forming in her mind. If she could get it out in time, then... then there was hope. But she'd have to work fast.

 _I'll save you, Wes,_ she thought as she frantically tore off her shoe,  _unless, that is, you can save yourself._


	19. Fire

Wes lied in his bed for hours, thinking.

It wasn't the fact that she was immune that shocked him, really. It was the fact that she hadn't told him. They'd spent so much time together, and he felt hurt that she hadn't felt the need to. They were connected now, both emotionally and physically; he hated that he had to figure it out himself. He knew that she had her reasons for it, but it still stung.

He knew that he was going to forgive her. Wes wasn't the kind of guy who held grudges, especially against people he cared about. And he cared about Mari. A lot more than he wanted to. 

But at the moment, he didn't want to see her. It was kind of nice, being alone for awhile. The silence was comforting, and soon, Wes drifted off to sleep.

• • •

He awoke suddenly.

He sat up in bed, alert. Something had woken him up, some noise. He was sure of it. He stayed still, listening intently, but heard nothing. Whatever had woken him up, it had stopped.

"Mari?" He called out. Maybe she had dropped a plate, or something along those lines. The last time he had seen her was when she had run into the forest, but she had to be back by now. It was well into the night, so dark that you could see the stars. Anyone with half a brain would know that they'd have to be back before nightfall, and Mari was one of the smartest people he'd ever met. Yet she didn't reply, and Wes was only met with silence.

He climbed out of bed, slowly making his way downstairs. "Mari?"

He walked all over the house, calling her name, to no avail. She had disappeared. He stopped in the hallway upstairs, confused. Where would she have possibly gone? He knew her, and he knew that she had no intention of running away. THere was also no chance that she'd gotten lost in the forest. What had happened to her?

He sat on his bed, thinking. He couldn't go looking for her; it was far too late for that, and there was no chance that he wouldn't get lost. He had no choice but to wait until morning.

He started to panic, pacing inside his room, kicking the walls. He shouldn't have pushed her away. Who knew what could've happened to her? She could've been attacked by an animal, or hurt herself, and it would all be Wes' fault. If he lost her... he didn't know what he would do. Without her here to keep him company, Wes would go mad.

He punched the wall, but instantly regretted it as pain shot up his arm. Maybe she was just taking a break from him, or lost track of time. She was probably tied to a tree right now, safe and sound. Mari was as tough as nails. She could take out anything.

Wes left his room and walked onto the balcony, looking out at the forest, trying to spot her in the spaces between the trees. He saw nothing, but he hadn't been expecting to. Defeated, Wes turned around with a sigh. He might as well try to get some sleep, but he doubted he'd be able to.

Just as he was about to open the door, something caught his eye. Down on the ground, there was a flurry of motion. Wes walked over to the railing to investigate, but saw nothing.

 _It was probably just an animal_ he reassured himself as he walked back inside. There was no point in getting himself worked up over nothing.

Wes took off his shirt and pants, before climbing into bed. He stared at the ceiling, trying to make himself tired, to no avail. He was just too worried about Mari. Where was she?  
  
He'd been lying like that for ten minutes when he smelt the smoke.

At first, he was confused. Why the hell would there be smoke? He climbed out of bed, throwing on his pants. Had he left the propane stove on? It was unlikely, but it was the only explanation he had.

He walked down the stairs. It was sweltering hot, and Wes started to sweat. Soon, he saw why.

The entire living room was on fire. Wes stared in shock, watching the orange flames consume the room. He was in disbelief. There was no way that the living room was that flammable. It was impossible.

Then he smelt the gasoline, and it dawned on him. Somone had broken into the cabin and covered it with gasoline, with the sole intent of killing him; if they hadn't been, they wouldn't have set fire to the living room first, blocking off his only exit point. But who would do that?  
  
Wes didn't have time to think about it. The flames were getting closer and closer to him with each passing second, taking more and more of the cabin as it did. Wes had no choice but to run back upstairs; if he stayed behind too long, he would be roasted alive.

He needed to get out of the building. Smoke inhalation would be as deadly as the flames. Seeing his only option, Wes ran onto the balcony.

He looked down at the ground, remembering the time when he'd jumped off to escape Mari. Back then, he'd had the mud to impact his fall. But now, all he had to cushion him was the hard, packed dirt of the ground. If he jumped, he'd probably sprain his leg. And if whoever had lit this fire had stuck around, then that would be a problem.

But Wes had no other options. He turned back, and saw the flames creeping up the stairs. If he didn't want to burn to death, this was his only option.

He climbed over the railing, holding onto it as he leaned over the edge. He couldn't see anyone on the ground; now was as good a time as any.

Taking a deep breath, Wes jumped.

He rolled as he hit the ground. It hurt; he'd landed on his feet first, sending pain shooting up his body. But when he stood up, he was fine. Miraculously, he hadn't hurt himself.

He turned, looking at the cabin. He could see the flames through the window, licking the walls of the cabin. He backed away, out of fear that the building would collapse.

It was painful to watch. He'd been there for over two months. It was as close to a home as he's gotten over the past two years, and seeing it burn before his eyes was horrifying. It had been Courtney and Olivia's, then his. And now it was nobody's.

Wes didn't have much time to mourn. Movement caught his eye, and he turned. He found himself facing a brown-haired man, who was holding two swords. Even from the distance he was at, Wes could see the bloodlust in the man's eyes.

 _Oh, you have to be kidding me,_  Wes thought as the man charged.

He sidestepped, and the man slashed at nothing. Wes' army training took in as he kicked the man in the back, making him sprawl to the ground. He stepped on the man, picked up one of his swords, and buried it in his back. The man coughed up some blood, then went still.

Wes grabbed his other sword. There was no way the man had been the only one here; it would've taken a group to carry enough gasoline to burn down the entire cabin. There were more coming, and Wes had a feeling that they wouldn't be as easy to take out as this man had been.

He sunk into the trees. He needed to find Mari. Now. While he was a good fighter, Mari was better. With her at his back, he'd be unstoppable.

"MARI!" He shouted. No answer. Wes started to move, scouting out the forest. He had a feeling that the people that man had been with had something to do with Mari's disappearance, which meant that if she was still alive, she couldn't be too far off. If those bastards had hurt her, then there would be hell to pay.

Eventually, Wes found a tree, which had severed ropes lying on the ground in front of it. He kneeled down, examining it. It looked like someone had been here, but had freed themselves. He hoped that it was Mari.

"Put your hands up!"  
  
Wes turned. A young man was standing behind him, pointing a gun at his chest. He looked like he couldn't be much older than twenty, and his glasses were falling down his face. He was shaking, and Wes had a feeling that it wasn't because of the cold air.

"You don't have to do this," Wes told him. He had a feeling that the boy wouldn't shoot him; he looked terrified. If he had to guess, he would say this was the kind-hearted Noah that Mari had brought up a few times. "Just put down the gun, and no one gets hurt."  
  
"I can't," Noah was crying now. "He'll have my head if I do."

Mari had told him about the effect Ian had on people. If she had been terrified of him, he couldn't even imagine how Noah felt about the golden-toothed psychopath.

Wes knew he couldn't talk some sense into the boy, but he didn't want to kill him, either. He acted quickly. Before Noah even processed that he had moved, he'd slammed the hilt of one of his swords into his head, knocking the boy unconscious. Wes watched him fall, before running out of the forest and back towards the cabin.

He knew Mari. If she had escaped, then she would've gone and tried to rescue him. Which meant that she had to be somewhere near the cabin, with the same goal he had; finding each other.

Wes ran into two women, both with guns in their hands, circling the cabin. He approached them from behind, impaling the black-haired woman, before knocking the blonde one to the ground. She dropped her gun, and he pressed the tip of the sword against her throat.

"Please!" She threw her hands in the air. "Please don't hurt me. They made me do it, I swear!"

Wes froze. Seeing her below him, crying, made him feel the exact same way he had felt with Noah. He couldn't bring himself to hurt her, and brought the sword down from her neck.

She thanked him repeatedly, before a loud gunshot cut her off. Wes watched, wide-eyed, as she fell, a hole in the side of her head. He turned, and found himself face-to-face with the golden-toothed bastard himself.

It had been awhile since he'd seen Ian, but the psychopath hadn't changed a bit. He had the same two guns in his hands, which were both pointed at him. Blood covered his clothes, and for a few seconds, Wes was confused as to why it did; until he saw that the black-haired woman's corpse had been moved.

Ian laughed; a long, terrifying laugh that sent shivers down Wes' spine. He tried to hold his ground, but as he stared into Ian's crazy eyes, his stomach dropped.

"Hey there, boy!" Ian grinned, looking like a madman. "Did you really think that you could escape me? That you could seduce, or whatever the hell you did, my hunter? And then kill all of my men? Drop your swords, or I'll shoot you right here!"  
  
Wes did as he asked, letting the blades slip from his hands. Somehow, Ian's grin widened.

"Now, boy, I'm going to take you back, and do to you what was always going to happen. I'm going to string you up by your ankles, and slit that little throat of yours, before serving your blood to my people like red wine. I always get what I want, you hear me? I  _always_  do."

Ian laughed again, hysterically. He'd lost it; he'd utterly, completely lost it. "And then, I'm going to take that little  _whore-_ "

He didn't get to finish. Somehow, Wes hadn't seen Mari sneak up on Ian, but he could sure see her now, as she pulled her knife out of Ian's neck. The madman dropped to his knees, bringing his hands to his neck. Wes watched in horror as blood ran through the man's fingers, and out of his mouth.

Then Ian fell, landing face first in the dirt. Wes looked at Mari, who was staring at her fallen leader, blood speckling her face. He looked down, and saw that his bare torso was covered in blood. Suddenly, he was freezing.

The severity of his actions hit him. He's killed people; not just one person, but two. He'd justified it to himself at the time, telling himself that he was just trying to protect Mari. But now, as he thought about what he'd done, Wes couldn't help but feel disgusted with himself.

He threw up, and Mari started to cry. They must've been an odd sight; two blood-stained people, crying and throwing up next to a corpse. Soon, Wes was crying too, their sobs the only sound in the empty clearing.

Eventually, Mari found the words to speak. She looked up at her lover. "What are we going to do now?"

Wes followed her gaze to behind him, at the cabin. Or, at least, what used to be the cabin. All that remained was charred wood. He could tell that there was no use in looking through the rubble; there was nothing to salvage. They'd lost everything.

"I don't know," Wes whispered, so quietly that Mari could barely hear him. "I don't know."


	20. Next

Wes was lying on the ground, staring up at the sky. He'd been lying there for hours, as Mari searched through the ruins of the cabin, trying to find anything that could be of use to them. She hadn't found anything, which Wes had been expecting.

Once the sun had risen, Mari walked back over to him. She was covered in soot, and lightly kicked his side. Wes hardly felt it, though he doubted that Mari had wanted him too. "Get up."  
  
"Why?" He asked, looking at her. He'd been in a state of shock for the past few hours, trying to process what had happened. The faces of the man and woman he'd killed kept flashing before his eyes, filling him with guilt. He had absolutely no motivation to get off the ground.

Mari sighed, looking to her side. "Because we need to go, Wes. We can't stay here. We'll die."

"We have nowhere to go," Wes countered.

Mari kicked him. Hard. "Don't give me that bullshit, Wes."  
  
"But it's the truth," Wes countered.

"Fine," Mari backed away from him. "Stay here and die, then. I'm going."

She started to walk away from him. Wes watched her walk away for a few seconds, before realizing that she actually meant it; she was fully prepared to just leave him there. He managed to bring himself to his senses enough to climb to his feet, brushing the dirt off his clothes, before catching up to her. She was walking towards the forest.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Out of the forest," She replied. "They must've come here in cars; hopefully we'll be able to find one."

"Did you find anything in the rubble?" He asked, even though he already knew the answer. Still, he had a little hope.

"I found a human skeleton," She replied. "But nothing useful."

"From whom?" He asked. He'd spent enough time in that cabin alone, and with Courtney and Olivia, to know that there wasn't a corpse in it.

"Shayne, I assume," Mari sighed. "He must've not gotten out fast enough; or Ian sacrificed him in order to set the cabin on fire. One of the two."

Wes didn't press her on it. They walked into the forest. He followed her lead; she knew where she was going far better than he did.

Suddenly, Mari paused. Soon, Wes saw why. They had arrived at the tree she'd been tied to, and she was staring at Noah's unconscious form, slumped on the ground. Wes was surprised that the boy was still out. He hoped that he hadn't hit him too hard.

"Did you do this?" She asked.

"Yes," Wes replied as Mari kneeled down, feeling Noah's pulse.

"Oh, Noah," She brushed some of the boy's short hair out of his eyes tenderly, sighing. "We can't leave him here."  
  
"Mari, we can't-" Wes started as Mari hooked her arms under the frail boy's form. They couldn't support a third person, not when they didn't have food or shelter. Hell, they couldn't even support themselves.

"Yes, we can," She replied, cutting him off. "We can't just leave him here. He's too young to die, Wes."

As Wes stared into her eyes, he knew there was no argument to be had that he could win. Once Mari made up her mind about something, there was no changing it. Wes knew that.

They walked for hours, taking turns carrying Noah. The hot sun beat down on Wes, and he could feel the sweat on his skin. It had been awhile since he'd performed any taxing physical actions, and it didn't take long for him to feel tired.

Eventually, Wes reached a tree with a marking on it. He stopped in his tracks, making Mari look at him quizzically. He traced his fingers over the RW. It felt like years since he'd come through here with Remina, though it had only been a few months. A tear ran down his cheek.

"A past lover?" Mari asked.

Wes nodded, bringing his fingers off the bark. Mari gave him a sad look.

Then they continued walking. If they were around his carvings, then they couldn't be too far from the road. Soon enough, they emerged from the forest. It had been so long since Wes had seen the road, that he barely recognized it. If possible, it looked even wilder than it had before.

Luckily, Mari had been right. A truck was parked on the side of the road, blood splattering its hull. Mari rushed over to it, Noah in her arms. Wes followed her.

She laid Noah down on the hull and pulled on the door. It was locked, but it looked like she had been expecting that, as she instantly started ruffling through Noah's pockets. She growled, letting Wes know she hadn't found anything. Wes watched as she smashed the window with a rock, opening the door.

She picked Noah up and brought him to the back, opening the trunk. She laid him down in the back, before coming back out to meet Wes.

"How are we going to start it up if we don't have the keys?" He asked as she climbed into the driver's seat. Wes climbed into the passenger's seat.

The truck was in surprisingly good condition, which was rare nowadays. The seats were made of leather, and the rearview mirror let him see Noah in the back. A few guns and knives were strewn in the cup holders and dashboard.

Mari froze at his words. "I... I don't know."

Wes sighed and rested his head on the side door. Luckily, the gas tank was full. He supposed that they could sleep in here, and find food in the forest. But Ian's group was sure to start looking for them soon, and the truck was an easy target.

Mari sighed, leaning her head on the wheel. "What are we going to do, Wes?"  
  
This was rare. Mari was so independent, she rarely asked him for guidance. Unfortunately, she was asking him at the worst of times, as Wes didn't have an answer.

"I don't know," He replied.

Mari sighed. "What are we, even? What do we have?"

Once again, Wes didn't have an answer. "I don't know, Mari."  
  
"Are we dating?" She asked. "Is that even a thing anymore?"  
  
"We're more than that," Wes stated. "I love you, Mari."  
  
The words slipped off his tongue before he'd thought them through. Mari sat up immediately, giving him a shocked look. Wes was just as surprised; of all the things he'd thought he would say, that was far from one of them.

"Really?" She asked.

"Really," Wes replied. It was the truth. Somehow, miraculously, he'd fallen in love with her. The murder, the woman who'd been sent to hunt him down. Yet, somehow, he loved her. Was it the smartest thing for him to be, or the best? Probably not. But it was the truth none the less. Through good and bad, he loved her.

Mari leaned over, resting her head on his lap. Instinctively, he placed his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

"I love you too, Wes," She said softly, so softly Wes barely heard her. Wes didn't reply, and just kept stroking her hair. Eventually, he heard her breaths even out, and knew she had fallen asleep.

He leaned back in his chair. It had been forever since he'd even been in a car, let alone slept in one. He made himself as comfortable as he could, before letting fatigue take over his body, and dozed off.

• • •

He woke up to the sound of groaning.

He looked up at the rearview mirror, and saw Noah slowly rising, rubbing his head. He shook Mari awake. She gave him a queer look, but a look of understanding replaced it as he pointed at Noah.

The boy had noticed them. "Mari? What... is this the truck? What happened? Where's Ian? Who.. who's that?"  
  
"Ian's dead," Mari stated. Noah's eyes widened.

"Wha... what? How?" He asked. Wes could understand his bewilderment. Ian must've seemed like a God to the boy; untouchable. He could see why it was hard for Noah to believe that he was dead.

"I stabbed him," Mari explained. "Everyone you came with is dead, Noah. We can't go back to camp."

Noah buried his head in his hands. "Then where are we going to go?"

"I don't know," Mari replied. "Heck, we can't even get the car running."

"Oh, that isn't an issue," Noah explained. "I know how to hotwire it."

Wes let out a sigh of relief. If this boy could get this hunk of metal moving, then there was hope. There had to be a town nearby, where they could find supplies, or another group. It would open a window of opportunities.

"You can?" Mari asked.

Noah nodded. "I learned how to in juvie."

"You were in  _juvie?_ " Mari asked in bewilderment. Wes could see why. He'd only ever talked to Noah once, yet even he couldn't believe that the young man had ever broken a law.

"Yeah," Noah scratched the back of his neck. "Long story. Anyway, I can do it. But it doesn't change the fact that I don't know where we're going. You didn't answer my question. Who's that?"

Wes sighed. He could see why Noah was suspicious of him. After all, the last time (and only time) he had seen Wes was when he had knocked him unconscious. Anyone would be wary of a stranger after that.

"I'm Wes," Wes introduced himself. "I'm Mari's... lover."  
  
Mari smacked her head into the steering wheel, before shooting him a dirty look. Wes shrugged. He couldn't think of a word to describe what they had; lover was the best one he could come up with.

"Oh," Noah's face burned red. "Uh... nice to meet you, I guess?"  
  
There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

Noah coughed, breaking it. "So, um, what's the plan?"

That was met with more silence, as neither Wes nor Mari had an answer for him. Wes tapped his fingers on the armrest, hoping that Mari would answer him.

Mari sighed and looked out the window, much to Wes' relief. "I have an idea. Noah, do you remember where Ian's rivals were?"  
  
"Somewhere in Oregon," Noah replied. 

"Then we're going to Oregan," Mari explained, looking back up at the rearview mirror.

"Why?" Wes asked, startling her, like she'd forgotten that he was there. "Why would we go to his rivals? They'd have no reason to let us in. Wouldn't they kill us on sight, if they knew you were part of Ian's group?"  
  
"Yes, they would," Mari exhaled. "If we didn't have anything to offer them."

"What the hell do we have to offer them?" Wes asked. They were only three people, with barely any supplies and no handy skills except for some one of them had picked up in juvie, and a knack for fighting and hunting. None of those were exactly in high demand for a group that had no need for new members.

She looked at him, her black eyes piercing into his own. She was looking at him like he was an idiot, like he should've already known the answer to his question, though Wes had no idea why. "For the same reason Ian let me in."  
  
For a few seconds, he was confused as to what she meant. His face paled the second he figured it out. "Mari, no. We aren't doing that."  
  
"Do you have any better ideas?" She asked, tightening her fingers around the steering wheel, turning her knuckles white.

There were a few minutes of silence as Noah stared at the two of them in confusion. Wes knew that she was right; there were no other options; not if they wanted to survive. He looked away from her, exhaling loudly, staring out the window. That was answer enough to Mari, though she had been half-hoping for him to talk her out of it.

"Noah, get this baby up and running," She commanded, startling the younger man, who pushed his glasses up his face. "We're going to Oregon."


	21. Talk

Turns out, Noah hadn't been lying.

He found a toolbox in the trunk, and kicked them out of the car to give him space. Mari and Wes leaned against the hull, not saying a word to each other, listening to the tinkerings of the boy inside. Wes could only hope that Noah knew what he was doing; if he didn't, all three of them were fucked.

Then they heard the rev of an engine, which felt like music to Wes' ears. Seconds later, Noah poked his head out the window, grinning.

"Done," He pushed his glasses up his face, looking as excited as a toddler who had just been given far to much candy.

Mari kicked him to the back, before climbing into the driver's seat. Wes took the passengers. She wasted no time before pressing her foot on the gas, making the car lurch forwards.

They weren't going very fast, but to Wes, it was exhilarating. The last time he had been in a car, he had been scared out of his mind. But he was safe here, and could enjoy the ride, along with the passing view of the forest. It was a taste of his old life, and Wes loved it.

Eventually, his excitement wore off, leaving Wes with nothing but thirst and hunger. He heard Mari's stomach rumble, and knew that she was having similar thoughts.

"Hey, Noah, you guys wouldn't happen to have any food in here, would you?" She asked, making the boy divert his attention from the window.

"No, we don't," Noah shook his head. "We ate it all awhile ago, while searching for you guys."

"How long were you searching for us?" Wes asked.

"A month," Noah replied. "Ian was getting impatient. He thought that Mari had died, and was never coming back. He gathered a small team and headed out. The reason it took us so long was because we didn't have any way to track you; until Miel pointed out that you were probably near water. We followed the river, and there you were."

Mari sighed. "That's how I found you too, Wes. I should've expected Ian to think of that."

"To be fair, he didn't," Noah replied. "I thought of it the day I saw the river, but I didn't say shit about it; mainly because I didn't want him to find you. Of course, Miel wasn't an idiot, and she desperately wanted a gun. That's why she brought it up."

"Of course," Mari tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

"Did she die painfully?" He asked. Mari looked at Wes, expecting him to answer.

"She was shot in the head," Wes replied, assuming that the blonde girl had been Miel. "By Ian. It was quick."

"Good," Noah looked back out the window. "She was the only thing that kept me sane, among those four psychopaths."

There was a long silence after that as they drove. Soon, the sun was starting to set. Seeing as Wes had taken a nap earlier, he didn't feel tired. He assumed Mari felt the same way, as Noah soon dozed off, yet her eyelids didn't even begin to droop.

Suddenly, Mari veered off the road, taking a highway exit. Wes looked at her, and she got the message.

"Gas station," She replied. "We should check it. It may have food, water, or gas; hopefully all three."

"Yeah," Wes replied. "Good call."

It didn't take them too long to arrive at their destination. The building looked like a mess; the logo on the highway sign had been ripped off, and was lying cracked on the ground. The windows were smashed, leaving broken glass peppered around Wes' feet. Graffiti splattered the walls. It looked like it had been pulled out of an apocalypse movie; in a way, Wes supposed, it had been.

Mari walked up to the door, and he followed her lead. The shelves inside were practically deserted, with boxes of products littering the ground. It smelled like rotting flesh, emanating from an infected corpse lying on the ground. Wes kicked it, just to make sure; to his relief, it didn't stir.

It was the first infected he'd seen in awhile. He'd almost forgotten how they looked and smelled. He wished that he could go back to that state; the creatures looked like they had been pulled straight out of his nightmares. He would go his entire life without seeing one if he could.

Mari started going through the halls, picking the boxes off the ground. Wes helped her. In their panic, looters never stopped to pick up what they dropped, leaving them with plenty of food.

They made a quick return trip to the car, dumping everything they'd collected in the trunk next to a sleeping Noah, before making their way back inside. Mari made a beeline for the storage closet, and kicked the door. It didn't budge. She bodyslammed it. It didn't move.

She sighed. "Wes?"

Wes didn't need to be told twice, and threw his body weight against the door. He did it three times, and luckily, the door collapsed inwards. While it had been tiresome, Wes was glad that it had been hard to budge, as it had left its inhabitants untouched.

There were three shelves, covered in food. Wes saw chips, candy, salted beef, cans. In this day and age, he may as well have walked into a bank vault.

He and Mari sprang into action, grabbing plastic bags from the till and filling them up as fast as they could. They made several trips to the car and back, making sure to collect as much as they could. Eventually, Mari hit the jackpot; three gas cans, holding more than enough gas to get them to their destination.

By the time the storage closet was empty, they had enough resources to last them weeks. Sure, it wasn't the healthiest of items, but it was food none the less. They climbed into their seats, giddy with excitement, as they dug into a bag of chips and a pop.

They ate until they felt like they were going to burst, before leaning back in their chairs. Mari smiled at him, and Wes smiled back.

"We're not going to be able to sleep, will we?" She asked.

Wes laughed. After all the sugar they'd consumed, there was no way that was going to happen. She grinned, and started up the car; Noah had shown her the basics of hotwiring, and she'd gotten a hold of it quickly.

They drove until the sun started to rise, before their sugar highs began to wear off. Wes felt his eyelids start to droop, and Mari pulled onto the side of the road. Wordlessly, they both dozed off.

• • •

He woke up to the sound of crinkling.

Noah had woken up, it seemed, and was digging into a bag of chips. He caught the younger man's eyes in the rearview mirror, and snorted at his guilty expression. It was hard to believe that there was anyone this innocent around anymore. Wes was glad Mari had spared Noah's life.

Soon after, Mari woke up, probably from the sunlight shining through the window. She started up the car, and soon they were off again.

They drove for hours. Wes rolled down his window, letting the wind ruffle through his hair. They passed several infecteds, and Wes counted them. By the time the gas tank hit half, he'd seen ten.

He thought back to what Olivia had told him about them. How they weren't dead, like everyone had initially thought, though they might as well be. That they were brain-dead, only shells of their former selfs. The thought sent shivers down his spine, and he was glad that he'd never have to experience that.

But that made him start to think. How was he immune? He realized that he had never asked Mari how she had figured out that he was; that was, after all, valuable information, seeing as he'd need to know it to get accepted into the group they were planning on joining.

"Hey, Mari?" He asked. "How did you know I was immune?"

The purple-haired woman took a deep breath, her knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. That was a habit she had, he noticed. "Do you remember Tampa, Florida?"

Of course he did. Their boot camp had been in Florida, only a mile or so away from the town of Tampa. One day, it had been bombed by China, blowing up half the city and leaving the other half covered in deadly gas. Reports had said that there was still time to get people out, so Wes, along with a few other volunteers, had grabbed some gas masks and stormed straight in, saving over a thousand people. "Yes."

"I was one of the volunteers," She replied. "And you were, too. I don't know if it was the radiation, or if we inhaled some of the gas, but everyone I've met who was on that misson, or who were civilians who survived; they've all been immune."

"And you recognized me," Wes guessed.

Mari nodded. "Well, kind of. I remembered seeing you from a distance; seeing as you're so tall, you were easy to notice. You looked familiar enough to give me a reasonable guess that your injury was from a bite."

Wes subconsciously touched his scar through his jeans. "Is that how you caught everyone else?"

"Two out of three," Mari replied. "Third straight up told me he was immune, but also told me he was one of the volunteers."

"So we're immune," Wes started, "because we helped people?"

Mari nodded. "Poetic, isn't it?"

Wes smiled and looked out the window. Maybe he did deserve to be immune, in a way. He had risked his life to save those people; maybe this was his reward for that act. The thought was comforting. Wes always thought that people who had risked their lives for others with no expectation of a reward were the only ones who deserved one.

"Wait, you're immune?" Noah piped up from the back, scaring the shit out of Wes. He'd completely forgotten that Noah was there.

"Yup," Mari replied. "How did you think I found Wes so easily?"

"I guess I just never thought about it," Noah scratched the back of his neck. "I was never really stoked at the idea of drinking your blood Wes, by the way. I just played along."

"I assumed that," Wes replied. "After all, you haven't sunk your teeth into my neck like a vampire."

Noah laughed, before looking back out the window. They drove in silence for a few more hours, gazing out their respective windows. At one point, Wes and Mari switched positions, giving her a long needed break.

It had been so long since Wes had been behind a wheel, it took him a couple of minutes to get the hang of it again. In those few minutes, he almost killed them all by driving into a ditch, causing Mari to yell at him and almost kick him out of the driver's seat. Luckily, he swerved out of the way just in time, and didn't have any more close calls.

It was calming, driving on an empty road. Without the constant threat of other drivers or the stress of being in traffic, Wes was relaxed. Besides the odd infected or fallen roadsign, there was nothing to be wary of.

Right as the sun started to set, they reached a highway sign. The metal was rusting, and the paint was peeling, but you could still make out what it said.

Written on a background of the state, in black letters, was the words "Welcome To Oregon!"

Noah whooped at the sight of it, and Mari grabbed Wes' hand, smiling at him. He squeezed it back, thankful for her touch; they'd rarely ever had the chance to show physical affection for each other in the last few days. He'd missed it.

They'd made it to Oregon, with food and gas to spare. Now, of course, came the hard part; finding the group they were looking for, or any group for that matter. Somehow, Wes knew that wasn't going to be as easy as it seemed.


	22. Horde

When the sun finally started to set, Wes couldn't be more tired.

Mari was snoring softly in the passenger's seat, while Noah had passed out hours ago. It was taking all of Wes' energy not to let his eyelids droop. He knew that he was risking all of their lives by not stopping, but he couldn't just leave them out in the open. That could earn them unwanted visitors, which would be far more deadly than driving into a tree.

When he saw an exit sign, he took his chance, pulling off of the highway. Once he was more or less out of view of the main road, he rolled to a stop, before resting his head on the wheel. Despite the hard texture of his makeshift pillow, Wes was so tired that it didn't matter, and he quickly fell asleep.

• • •

He woke up in the passenger's seat, with Mari at the wheel. She must've moved him in his sleep; she was more than strong enough to do so. He didn't question it, and instead looked out the window. If Mari noticed he was awake, she didn't say anything. Noah was still asleep in the back; if there was one thing that Wes admired about that boy, it was the fact that he could sleep forever if you let him.

He'd been in Califonia for two years now, ever since he was sent there with his squadron to deliver supplies before the disease really got out of hand, and never made it back to Florida before it did. The further they got into Oregon, the more he noticed the differences between the two states. The forest was getting greener, the air colder. The change was sudden, unfamiliar. He didn't like it.

They drove over a small hill. Wes glanced at the gas meter, and saw that it was dangerously low. Mari must've noticed it as well, as her lips were pursed. They wouldn't be able to refill until they made it over the hill; if they stopped, they risked the chance (no matter how small it was) of the car rolling downhill, which neither of them wanted to risk. Wes rolled up his window, annoyed with the wind blowing through his air.

After what felt like hours, they drove over the top of the hill. Greeting them at the bottom of the road was something we had only seen once before, and it had cost him his best friend's life.

Wes' heart sank as he stared at the horde. The infecteds seemed to go on for miles, a never-ending sea of green heads. They had been leisurely strolling, but the second they saw the car, they all started sprinting. Wes was surprised that they hadn't heard them coming; if he remembered correctly, deafness wasn't one of the things Olivia had told him they had.

"Shit!" Mari screamed as the swarm started rushing towards them, trampling each other in their desire to get to them. This horde was far bigger than the one he'd encountered with David, and seeing them all rush towards him, was the most terrifying thing Wes had ever seen.

Mari instantly slammed her foot on the gas, trying to turn them around. Wes grabbed onto the door as she violently swerved, keeping himself in his seat; he'd stupidly not put on his seatbelt. Noah's head slammed into the wall, instantly waking him up to a nasty surprise.

Just as Mari was about to finish turning, the car stopped. Mari frantically pressed her foot on the gas, trying to make them move, but it was no use. The gas meter had reached zero. They were out of gas, leaving them stuck.

There were a few seconds as the three of them sat there, shocked, their ragged breaths the only sound any of them could hear. Wes looked out the window, and saw that the swarm was far too close for comfort; only thirty meters away at the most. At the speed they were going, they'd be here in five minutes, top. The speed they were going at was almost inhuman. Olivia must've found a way to cut off the part of their brain that made them feel tired, letting them run at top speeds for as long as they needed too.

"Noah!" Mari shouted as she unbuckled her seatbelt, grabbing one of the guns in the cupholders. "Get the gas!"

He didn't need to be told twice, and instantly did what she asked. Wes grabbed a gun and one of the knives, and followed Mari outside.

She was opening the trunk, letting Noah out. He instantly ran for the gas cap, ripping it open and pouring the contents of the gas canister into it as quickly as he could. Wes stood next to Mari, shielding the younger man, ready to protect him.

By now, the infecteds were little over fifteen meters away. Mari and Wes raised their guns, aiming them at their targets, before opening fire.

It had been awhile since Wes had used a gun, but it didn't take long for his army training to kick in. He was rapidly firing, hitting all his targets. Mari was far from a bad shot, and was doing the same. He tried to ignore the sounds of the gun; without his earplugs, he was worried he would go deaf.

There were far too many. They didn't have much time before they were overwhelmed, and as more and more infecteds came climbing over the bodies of their dead, Wes lost more and more hope that they were going to get out of this. There were just so many. He doubted anyone could look at them and feel confident, though Mari definitely acted like she was.

"Done!" Noah shouted, much to Wes' relief. He and Mari climbed back into the car, shooting infecteds behind their back. By the time they were all in, and Mari got the engine back up and running, it was too late; the car had been completely swarmed, the infecteds covering them like flies on a corpse. She slammed her foot on the gas pedal, but the wall of bodies containing them didn't budge. They were trapped.

"Noah!" Mari yelled, throwing the young man a knife. He picked it off the ground, his hands trembling.

"What's the plan?" Wes asked. The pounding of the infected's fists against the glass was roaring in his ears. They still had a human's strength, but none of a human's self-control; they would break the glass at any second.

"Save your bullets," Mari replied, grabbing a knife. "And take out as many as you can. Noah, try not to get bit!"

Of course, he and Mari should try not to get bit either, as they could get their muscles torn open or get infections. But if Noah got bit, then he'd turn; he hadn't been in Tapa. Wes was sure of that.

Then she rolled down her window, though not all the way; just enough to reach the infected outside her window's head. She started stabbing it, bringing her knife in and out of it's skull. It seemed like every time she killed one, there were two to replace it.

Wes followed suit, rolling down his window. It reminded him of the warehouse, when Remina had held the door open while he stabbed infecteds; it was a similar strategy, he assumed, just in a different scenario. He glanced at Mari. She wouldn't have the same fate as Remina. He wouldn't let her.

He stabbed infected after infected. There was no way they would be able to kill them all; there were too many for that even to be possible. They just needed to kill enough to clear a path for the car.

The smell of rotting flesh filled his nostrils, making him gag. Blood ran down his hand, getting soaked up in his shirt. The infecteds poked their arms through the window, trying to climb into the vehicle, slapping him from time to time. There was always more than one target, more than one threat. As he stared into one infected after another's dead eyes, Wes couldn't help himself from feeling terrified.

Mari seemed to be fending for herself. Noah was having more difficulty, barely finding the strength to stab his targets, tears streaming down his eyes. If he could, Wes would help him. But dealing with his infected's was hard enough, and there was no way he could. He could only hope that Noah would be able to hold his ground.

The car lurched forwards, making Wes glance at Mari, noticing that she had her foot pressed on the gas pedal. That was a good sign; if she had been pressing the pedal this entire time, and they'd just moved, then they were making progress.

"Keep going!" She screamed. "We're almost there!"

Wes started stabbing with more energy, hope filling him. They could get out of this. They had too. He wasn't going to die here. None of them were. He wouldn't let them; he wasn't going to lose anyone else.

The car lurched forwards again, making more distance. Then, it happened; the car made it's way through the infecteds covering the hull, making them roll over the roof. One infected had gotten its arm through Wes' window, but the limb was thrown out as they moved.

Mari quickly completed the turn, and then they were speeding down the hill. Wes saw the infecteds running after them, but he wasn't worried; there was no way they'd be able to catch up. Even with their speed, they couldn't compete with a car going as fast as it could down a hill.

Mari swerved off onto the first highway exit she could find. They sped down it for at least a mile, finding themselves in the middle of an abandoned city. Mari managed to slow them down, and Wes rolled up his window, which was covered in so much blood he could barely see through it.

The second they stopped, Wes wrapped his arm around Mari's waist, pulling her in for a long kiss. She threw her arms around his neck, both of them thankful to still be alive, to still have each other. They didn't care that they were covered in blood, or that Noah was watching them. All they cared about was each other.

The last time he had been in a situation like this, Wes had lost everything. Just having Mari here, in front of him, unharmed, meant everything to him. If he could, he'd never stop kissing her.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other, desperate for breath. They started laughing, happy to be alive, to be together. They pressed their foreheads together, breathing heavily. If Noah hadn't been there, there was no way Wes would've been able to stop himself from sleeping with her, right there and then.

Wes glanced over at the young man, who was covered in blood, his hair practically red. His glasses were resting in a cupholder, the lens painted in blood. He had his sleeve rolled up, and was gingerly touching his arm, wincing every few seconds as he did. He face was pale, though Wes couldn't tell if it was from blood loss or because he was terrified. Neither option was good.

Wes pulled himself away from Mari, the excitement he had been feeling moments earlier fading out immediately. "Noah? What's wrong?"

Mari shot her head over to look at him as Noah looked up. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, like he couldn't speak. He turned, showing them his blood-soaked arm.

Mari gasped as Wes' eyes widened. Located right above his elbow, Noah had a nasty wound; one that was very familiar to both of them. His skin was torn open, blood pouring down his skin. Wes could see a bit of his muscle, which was torn. But that was far from the worst part, which was the green that was creeping up his veins, slowly making its way to his brain.

There was only one explanation, one possibility, and it made Wes' heart sink. Noah had been bitten.


	23. Immune

Mari and Wes were frozen for a few seconds as they stared at him, not knowing what to do. Noah wasn't like them; he wasn't immune. He was going to die.

"Shit!" Mari screamed, jumping out of her chair and crawling through the car as fast as she could towards the boy. Noah looked petrified, his eyes wide as he stared at the green creeping up his arm.

Wes followed her. Mari had grabbed Noah's arm, making him wince. She rolled up his sleeve. From what Wes could see, the green had already crawled up his arm, and onto his shoulder. Wes' stomach sank. The only way they could have saved him is if they cut off his arm, but if it was already that high, then they had no chance of severing the limb before it was too late.

Mari must've come to the same realization, as she didn't move and only held his arm in disbelief. Noah started crying, the look of uttermost despair on his two companion's faces making him realize his fate.

Then Mari's head shot up, like she'd just gotten an idea. She turned to Wes. "Get me an empty plastic bottle."

"What?" Wes asked, snapping out of the daze he had been in.

"Now!" Mari screamed. Wes hurriedly did as she asked, reaching into their garbage bag and pulling out an empty pop bottle. He tossed it to her, and she caught it.

Up until that point, Wes had no idea what she was planning. How could she possibly save Noah with a pop bottle? The idea was absurd.

Then she started cutting it, sawing the top of the bottle off. Wes realized what she was doing.

"Mari, that won't-" He started.

"Shut up!" She cried. "Shut up, Wes!"

He did, watching her work. Noah was watching her too, his eyes wide with fear.

Mari took a deep breath and brought the knife up to her arm, making an incision. She winced in pain, and instantly brought the bottle up to her wound, collecting her blood. Wes watched it pour into the container, filling the bottom with thick, red, liquid.

It was an idea Wes had thought about only once, a long time ago, after Olivia had talked about finding a cure. It was an outrageous idea, really; that drinking their blood would make someone immune. Impossible. And it was what had cost Wes everything.

Once Mari was satisfied with how much blood was in the makeshift cup, she handed it to Noah, who held it uncertainly.

"Mari, I-I can't drink this," He stuttered.

"Do you want to die?" She asked. "This is your only hope, Noah."

Noah looked at her, then at his arm, then her blood. He made his decision quickly, and brought the jagged plastic to his lips.

Mari and Wes watched in silence. As much as he hated to admit it, a small, selfish part of Wes didn't want it to work. He didn't like the thought of Ian being right, for that psychopath to have any justification for performing the actions he did. But most of him, the part of him that cared for other's, was hoping beyond hope that it worked.

Noah downed all of the blood, before hunching over, gagging. For a few seconds, it looked like he was going to vomit; but then he sat back up, looking a bit queasy, but otherwise fine.

All three of them looked at his wound. The green was past his shoulder blades by now, making it's way towards his neck. They all held their breaths.

For a few minutes, the green didn't stop moving, still inching forwards at the same pace as always. Then, miraculously, it started to slow down, before stopping entirely.

The three of them were frozen, staring at the massive portion of Noah's arm that was as green as a lime. It didn't start to fade, making Wes wonder if it would stay there forever.

But it had stopped. Somehow, it had stopped. It had worked; drinking the blood of an immune had worked. Noah was cured.

Mari hugged him, and Noah hugged her back, both of them sobbing. Wes watched awkwardly; he and Noah weren't that close, not like the young man and Mari were. Wes wondered how close the two were, how much of a history they shared. He wasn't jealous of Noah, of course; Mari was at least six years older than him, and nothing in their embrace looked romantic. He just wondered how much Noah knew about Mari that he didn't, and how much Mari knew about him in turn.

Mari pulled away, ruffling his hair.

"Oh, thank God," She murmured through her tears. Wes knew that she wasn't religious, though if she was saying it because Noah was or just because she wanted to thank someone, Wes didn't know. "Thank God."

"No, thank you," Noah replied. "It was your quick thinking that saved my life. Or willingness to. The only one to thank here is you."

Wes agreed with the boy, though he didn't say anything. He brought his attention to Mari's arm, which was still bleeding; the cut was deeper than he'd initially thought.

"Mari," He said, "We need to get you bandaged up. Both of you."

Luckily, there was a first-aid kit in the car. Seeing as he was the only one with two uninjured arms, Wes was tasked with fixing them up. Mari insisted that he treated Noah's wound first, and Wes complied. It was one of the many skills he had been taught in boot camp, and at the moment, he was grateful for it.

It didn't take him to long to finish; Noah's wound was barely bleeding anymore. Despite being smaller, Mari's took a little more time, as he had to put more pressure on it. After a lot of cursing and slapping, he finished.

"We're almost out of gauze," He lamented. It was true; taking care of the two of them had almost used up the entire roll, and seeing as they only had one first-aid cit in the car, that was a serious problem.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Mari replied. "First, we figure out where we are."

They would have to cross that bridge very soon, as their bandages would start growing mold if left unchanged for too long. But Wes didn't argue; after the horde they'd just faced, he didn't have the energy to deal with her stubbornness.

The two of them climbed out of the car, leaving Noah inside. They were in a small city, from the looks of it. Small, suburban houses surrounded them, most painted white. Most had boarded up windows, graffiti, the works. Front yards and driveways were covered in broken glass, and abandoned papers blew up and down the road.

Wes grabbed one- a newspaper -and read the article heading.  _"New disease created in lab; will it help us win the war?"_  Below it was a picture of Olivia, dressed in a lab coat, frowning. Underneath was the caption  _"Dr. Miller-Sui, head scientist of the FDCCC."_

His heart tightened looking at it. Here she was, looking exactly the same as he remembered her. He pocketed the article; he'd have to read it later.

Mari was walking around the car, checking it for damages. Some of the windows were cracked, looking like spiderwebs. Blood covered the vehicle. A green finger was stuck in one of the side doors, from an infected who had probably tried to pull it open. Wes pulled it out and threw it, watching it sail through the sky and far out of his vision.

But besides those few things, the truck was fine. It looked like it was straight out of a murder scene, and was deeply unpleasant to look at, but it was undamaged. That was all that mattered.

"Think there's any point in checking these houses?" Wes asked Mari.

She shook her head. "Take a look at the walkways. They're devoid of glass. If someone had time to sweep the paths, they had time to loot the houses."

Wes looked at one of the stone walkways, and noticed she was right; they were wiped clean. Wes' eyebrows furrowed. Why would anyone do that?

"It's strange, isn't it?" Mari asked, almost like she had read his mind.

"Yeah," Wes agreed. "It's strange."

Now, Wes was getting a bad feeling about this area. A city was far from a good place to be in these times, but those walkways; those were a sign that someone was here. Of course, they had wanted to find someone; though rolling straight into their base in a blood-stained truck probably wasn't the best first impression they could make.

"We should go," Wes argued. "Someone's here."

"How do you know?" Mari asked. "Those walkways could've been cleared ages ago. There's no proof-"

"Put your hands where I can see them!"

Mari and Wes' heads both snapped towards the noise. A tall man with glasses resting on his nose was standing down the road, pointing a gun at them. A shorter man with a big forehead was standing next to him, holding nothing but a horn.

Wes and Mari did as the man asked. If there were two people here acting this brashly, then there were no doubt others here as well. Fighting back wasn't worth the risk.

"Get on your knees!" The man yelled, and they complied. Wes glanced at Mari. Her face was white, and she looked terrified, which was so unlike her it shocked him. Did she know these men? And if she did, what had they done to her to make her so scared?

Noah had come out of the car at this point, and, upon seeing the scene, dropped to his knees as well. The two men walked over to them, their gun pointed at Wes.

The shorter man froze, making the taller one stop in his tracks. He blew his horn, which Wes realized must have been a signal, because the second he did, Wes heard footsteps.

Soon, they were surrounded. People had come from every direction. Most of them were unarmed, holding nothing but long sticks and fire pokers. Yet the sheer number of them made Wes feel intimidated.

"Why'd you blow the horn?" The taller man asked. "We could've dealt with them."

"Don't you recognize her?" The shorter man gestured at Mari, who went as white as chalk. "That's the bitch who killed Eugene!"

"I didn't kill him, Zach!" Mari shouted, color slowly returning to her face.

"You might as well have," The shorter man, who Wes assumed was Zach, yelled. "You told our leader about his immunity. He would be alive right now if it weren't for you!"

Mari opened and closed her mouth a few times, yet said nothing. Wes could understand why; there was no way anyone could respond to that.

Mari hung her head down in shame, and Zach turned to the taller man. "Keith, shoot her."

Wes' eyes widened. "No! No, don't do that. Please."

"She killed Eugene!"

"She regrets it! I promise, she regrets it!"

"I regret it," Mari agreed. "I do, Keith. I really, really do. If I could, I'd take it back."

The gun trembled in Keith's hands. Wes' breath caught in his throat. If this man killed Mari... Wes didn't know what he'd do.

"What's going on here?" A voice boomed. Somehow, it sounded... familiar. Wes was sure that he had heard that voice before.

"We have some visitors," Zach growled. "Of which one is a murder."

Wes could hear footsteps coming from behind him. He didn't dare turn to look and see who it was; he was scared that any sudden movements he made would make Keith pull that trigger, and he'd rather take a bullet himself than have Mari take one.

"Well, we should give them a trial at least, should we not?" The man walked past Wes, too quickly for him to see his face. "We can't call ourselves a democracy without giving them one, can we?"

"We can't," A tear rolled down Zach's cheek, and he nodded.

"Now, who are these strangers, anyway?" The man turned, a smile on his lips. The second he saw him, Wes' jaw dropped.

The man's eyes widened as the two of them stared at each other. This was impossible. There was no way that the man standing in front of him was who Wes thought he was.

He remembered the day he'd gotten that letter like it was yesterday. His brother had been killed in battle. His brother was dead, just as dead as Trenton. His eyes were playing tricks on him; they must've been. There was no way this was...

"Wes?" Brenden asked.


	24. Family Reunion

"Brenden?" Wes asked in disbelief.

The two brothers stared at each other, not believing their eyes. Wes had spent the last two years of his life thinking that Brenden was dead; to have him here, in front of him, was too good to be true. There was no way this was happening.

Keith lowered his gun, and Wes shot to his feet. The two brothers embraced. Brenden ruffled Wes' hair, like he did when they were boys.

"I can't believe this," Brenden pulled away, grabbing Wes' shoulders. "I thought you were dead!"  
  
"And I thought you were!" Wes exclaimed. "What happened?"  
  
"Oh, I'll tell you everything, brother," Brenden grinned. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

He turned to the gathered people, who were looking at the two of them in shock. "False alarm! Any friend of my brother is a friend of mine! Make sure our guests are taken care of. I have some talking to do with my brother."  
  
"But-" Zach started.

"Justice will be served for your friend, Zach," Brenden promised. "But not today. My brother has been returned to me! This calls for celebration, does it not? Notify the chefs! Tonight, there will be a feast!"

The people cheered, and Brenden threw his arm around Wes, leading him through the crowd. People were dispersing, going back off in the directions they came from.

"Wait, what about my friends-" Wes glanced back, and saw Mari and Noah slowly rising to their feet. They looked uncertain, and Wes could understand why; they didn't know Brenden. To them, he was a stranger, untrustworthy. They had no reason to be reassured by his presence.

"They will be cared for," Brenden assured him. "And you shall see them soon. But until then, I think we should have some family time, should we not?"

Wes nodded shakily. Brenden had changed; he could see that already. He used to be an unassertive, quiet boy who preferred to stick his nose in a book than to talk to people. This Brenden, who spoke with so much confidence that you couldn't help but want to do what he said, was a starch difference to the Brenden he remembered. He should've expected that; no one could go through the past two years and come out the same person they were before it began.

Brenden led him into one of the houses, which Wes assumed was his. If people lived in the houses, then that would explain the cleared walkways. Wes couldn't understand why Brenden ad set his base up here; cities weren't protected, and could easily be found. They were far from a good headquarters.

Besides for the boarded-up windows, you wouldn't be able to tell this house apart from one in 2016. The floors were swept, the furniture in good condition, the walls covered in paintings. It reminded Wes of their childhood home, though to a much smaller scale. He wondered who had lived here before.

"Take a seat," Brenden gestured to a lazyboy in the living room. Wes sat down, and Brenden sat on a loveseat opposite him. The only light came from the window, which gave Wes a clear view of the deserted road outside.

"So, welcome to my home," Brenden waved his hand around the room. "It's pretty big for one person, but, as the leader, I get certain privileges."  
  
"How many people live here?" Wes asked.

Brenden shrugged. "Five hundred, six hundred?"  
  
Wes' eyes widened. He might have well said 100 million people, that was how outrageous those numbers sounded. In this day and age, three hundred people was as big as an army. Six hundred was an empire

"How?" Wes asked in disbelief. It was hard to even believe there were that many people left in America, the world even! He couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Easy to locate spot, I suppose," Brenden shrugged. "We'll pretty much let anyone in, provided they would help out our community. Those are out main contributors."  
  
"Your community?" Wes asked. That was an unusual word to use. Most people said 'their group' or 'their company'. Wes had never heard anyone say 'my community'.

Brenden smiled. "Yes. Our community. You will love it here, Wes, I guarantee you. It has been my work for the past two years, and I am quite happy with it's growth."  
  
"Okay, Brenden," Wes sighed. He had one pressing question, one that he couldn't wait to be answered. He'd listen to his brother's explanation of the group's hierarchy later. "How did you survive? We got a letter from the army saying you died in battle. What happened?"

Brenden's smile melted, as if he was reliving a painful memory. "It's not a happy story, Wes."  
  
"Tell me," Wes pushed.

"Only if you promise to tell me how you ended up here," Brenden prompted.

That was an easy decision for Wes. "Deal."

Brenden sighed. "Well, Wes, I wasn't a very high-ranking soldier yet. I was straight out of boot camp. We had been planning the attack for months, intending to lower the North Korean's defenses. At the time, I didn't know it was so we could deliver the virus to them. I do know, of course.

"As the most inexperienced, we were a backup; we were never intended to be used. We waited behind the lines, waiting; if we heard a horn blow, then we would rush on and help. Everything was going to plan for the first few hours.

"Then the Korean's sent out a bomb. It obliterated the troops who were already out, turning them to dust. I ducked behind a trench as the explosion washed over us.

"I was badly burned, and barely alive. Many of the other newbies were dead. I waited in that trench for days, but no one came to try and find me; they just assumed I was dead.

"I had to crawl out of there by myself. I stayed with a group of gypsies for awhile, who healed me, before finding a boat. I sailed here myself, on a small rowboat. I barely made it. Yet, here I am. Us Johnsons have always been survivors."  
  
Brenden leaned forwards. "Now, tell me Wes; what is your story?"  
  
Wes told him everything; about him and David, trekking through the wilderness after they learned no one was coming to rescue them. About finding the group. About falling in love with Remina, and losing them both. About his immunity. About Ian. About Courtney and Olivia. And, of course, about Mari.

By the time he was done, Brenden was shocked. "So your immunity... it can be shared?"

"Apparently so," Wes replied.

There were a few seconds of silence as Brenden took that in. Wes could only imagine what was going on in his brother's head; there was so much one could do with that information. "It seems this apocalypse spared no one in it's misfortune. I'm sorry about everything that happened to you, Wes."

"And I you," Wes replied. If his brother didn't want him to elaborate on his immunity, Wes was more than happy about it. It was still a sore spot for him. "Now, tell me about this community of yours."

Brenden's face lit up. "Yes, of course. Wes, welcome to New America, the last democracy on earth. We assume."

"Democracy?" Wes asked. He couldn't imagine how anyone could run a democracy; then again, this was Brenden. He'd always been a dreamer, ever since they were young boys.

Brenden nodded. "Yes, democracy. We have town meetings, elections. I am not the leader by force, but by choice. Everyone helps each other out, plays their job. We are one, big family, all of us caring for each other and playing our role. It's how we managed to exist here; we all come to aid each other at a blow of a horn. And, of course, the giant horde outside our doorstep tends to scare off unwanted visitors."  
  
"How do you know it won't turn on you?" Wes asked.

"We don't," Brenden replied. "But we're prepared if they do. We're prepared for everything."

What his brother was describing sounded like heaven. For once, Wes started thinking about his future; what could Mari and he be, if they stayed here?

"And you, brother, are of course welcome to stay with us for however long you want," Brenden smiled. 

Wes thought about it. Mari, Noah, and him had been looking for a group. This... this sounded better than they had ever dreamed off. Here, they wouldn't need to exploit other immunes. They could just... exist, unafraid. Wes knew that this was the decision Mari would want him to make.

"Brother, of course I'll stay with you," Wes shot to his feet, ruffling his brother's hair. "I'm not breaking our family apart. We're the last Johnsons. We're sticking together."  
  
Brenden hugged him, and Wes embraced him back. "Welcome home, Wes."

• • •

Brenden brought him to a motel, where Mari and Noah were waiting for him in one of the rooms. It didn't take Wes very long to convince them to stay; they were sick of traveling, and this group sounded perfect to them. If you asked him, Wes would say that they'd be here for a long time. Perhaps forever.

When the sun started to set, Brenden retrieved them and brought them to a large restaurant, which had used to be a buffet. Food lined the tables, and people were already digging in. Some were dancing, others playing instruments. Wes hadn't seen anything like it for awhile, and the sight brought a smile to his face. Mari grabbed his hand, and kissed him on the cheek.

They grabbed a plate from a few stacks and walked up to the food tables. Displayed in front of was what seemed like everything; meat, vegetables, fruit, grain, even some cheese, though Wes didn't know how that was possible. He didn't question it, and grabbed a bit of everything.

He and Mari found some seats at the back, and ate to their heart's content. Wes had never had such a good meal in his life; the flavors danced on his tongue, sending shivers of delight down his body. He hadn't had a proper meal like this in years.

After they were done, Mari leaned against him. They stayed like that for a few minutes, digesting their food.

"Want to dance?" Mari asked him, her eyes glittering.

"Of course," Wes grinned down at her, letting her pull him out of his seat. She led him onto the dance floor.

She was more skilled than he was, and he followed her lead. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun, moving to the beat of music, twirling Mari under his arm. The songs ranged from fast to slow, as if they were in a real club.

On one slow song, Mari leaned her head into his chest as they swayed. She looked up at him, a smile on her lips.

"I can't believe we found this place," She murmured. "This is better than I could've dreamed of."  
  
"I know," Wes agreed. He noticed Noah, out of the corner of his eye, dancing with an attractive black-haired woman.

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Wes," Mari stated. "I love you."  
  
Wes leaned down and kissed her, holding her against him as they swayed. Spending the rest of his life with her was something Wes had only dreamed off, and having it become a reality, was without a doubt, the best thing that had ever happened to him. Everything he'd gone through, every pain, every joy, was worth it, as it brought him and her together, here. And Wes' wouldn't trade that for anything.

"I love you too, Mari," Wes smiled down at her. She smiled and leaned into his chest once again, letting him guide her.

For the first time in four years, the thought of the future didn't fill Wes with despair. In fact, he was excited. He held Mari tighter against him.

Where he was right now... Wes could only describe it as heaven.


	25. Epilouge

It was a beautiful day.

The sun shone brightly in the sky, illuminating the people below it, who were seated in chairs. Over the past two years, Wes and Mari had come to know many people in the community, and had invited almost everyone.

Between the rows of chairs was a walkway. They couldn't find any carpets, but neither of them had really minded. The grass looked pretty enough.

Wes stood underneath a tree, dressed in the a suit someone had found in their houses' closet. Despite his stature, it had somehow fit him, which was considered a miracle in Wes' book.

A priest stood behind him, bible open. Neither of them was religious, but seeing as there were no one else who could officiate their wedding, they had asked him. Wes was agnostic, after all. There was a chance God was out there. And if he was, why not get their marriage officiated under him? It wasn't like it could do any harm.

Wes surveyed the crowd as he waited. He spotted Noah's girlfriend, Tiffany, her black hair shining in the sunlight. In front of her were Ned and his wife, Ariel, two people Wes had met while he was on farming duty. Sitting next to them was Keith, his arm around his wife, Becky, and, of course, Zach.

Mari had never ended up going on trial, as Brenden had pardoned her on the grounds that she was doing it for survival's sake (the laws were different here than they were in America). Zach had been infuriated, going as far as to call for Brenden to be impeached. Wes had hated him for a long time, until Keith explained to him how Zach had loved Eugene. Then all Wes could do was feel sad for him.

It hadn't taken very long for Mari and him to settle into the community. Things were pretty simple here. You did your work, and in return got food, water, and shelter. There were rotations, where you'd trade jobs with someone else. Wes had been here two years, and had performed every job there was.

Of course, Wes and Mari had done a little more than required of them. Sitting in the hospital, in a heavily locked cupboard, were two small vials of their blood, lying next to each other. They were only to be used in emergencies, and very little of the people in the community knew of them. Brenden had realized quite quickly that there wasn't enough blood in the two of them to make everyone immune, and even if there was, drinking other people's blood came with a slew of possible health defects. They were an emergency backup, only to be used if someone was bitten. To his knowledge, they'd never been used; seeing as it was four years after the breakout, people had had plenty of time to learn how to deal with the infecteds. Wes was glad for it; the thought of other people drinking his blood made him squeamish.

He and Mari lived in a small house, as there was two of them. Single people had to live in apartments or abandoned hotels until they got a roommate or significant other. They were already used to living with each other, after the months they'd spent in the cabin. They got used to their new housing arrangements quickly, falling into pretty much the same routine they'd had there. Of course, things were different; breakfast was at a scheduled time, they knew exactly what their jobs were, and so forth. In many ways, Wes thought it was better. Life at the cabin had been hectic, and he was a man who had always preferred things to be organized.

Suddenly, a hush fell over everyone, breaking him off from his train of thoughts. Soon, Wes could see why. Emerging from the trees was Noah, but that wasn't who was attracting everyone's attention; it was the woman softly clutching his arm.

Wes' breath caught in his throat. Mari looked stunning. It was the only time Wes had seen in her in a dress, but she pulled it off well, letting the white dress with red floral patterns hug her figure. Her hair was braided, and swept over her shoulder. The purple was completely gone, replaced with the natural black. She was even wearing a light layer of makeup.

Noah led here down the aisle. Everyone was quiet, their eyes trailing her as she walked towards Wes, a light smile on her lips. She wasn't holding a boutique, as there was no place they could get flowers from. The second she was close enough, Wes clasped her hands in his, rubbing them gently. 

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the presence of family and friends to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony," The priest began, reading from the book in front of him. Wes meant to listen, but he could barely focus on his words. Mari just looked so beautiful, she was all he could concentrate on.

"You may now say your vows," The priest instructed after a few minutes, snapping Wes out of his daze.

"Mari," Wes began. He'd written out his vows awhile ago, and memorized them. His mind raced as he tried to remember the words. "When I first met you, I thought of you as an enemy, someone to be feared. I was right, in a way, but there is so much more to you than that. After everything we've been through, I've seen too many examples to count of your humor, strength, resilience, confidence, and intelligence. To this day, you cease to surprise me with your actions and personality, and not in a bad way. I love you, Mari Takahashi, and there is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you."  
  
"Wes," A tear ran down Mari's eye. Wes had started crying around midway through his vows; he didn't know how much of a mess he'd be after hers. "We got off to a rocky start; there's no doubt about that. The words that could express how grateful I am that you did not die in those first few days do not exist. You are the only person I know who is equally kind as they are strong, as compassionate as they are hard-working. There is no one out there who I would rather spend my life with. I love you, Wesley Johnson."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," The priest proclaimed. "You may kiss the bride."

Wes didn't need to be told twice. He wasted no time in leaning over, pulling Mari towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips against his as the crowd cheered. It was far from the first time they'd kissed, but Wes could still feel the electricity running down his body the second his lips touched hers. He hoped that he'd never stop feeling it.

Wes would've stayed like that forever if he could, but after a few seconds, he broke away. There would be plenty of time for that tonight. Right now, he had a wedding to celebrate.

They were on the outskirts of town, near the forest. Wes scooped Mari up, holding her bridal style, making her laugh. Then he, along with all their guests, made his way to town hall, which thankfully wasn't too far away.

That was where the real party was. The few musical instruments the community owned were being played, their musicians somehow staying in complete harmony despite their music sheets being written on bark. Wes put Mari down, and the two of them started to dance.

When there was cause for celebration here, people took full advantage of it. The tables were filled with food. Wes and Mari were far from the only ones dancing. In the corner, people played games like bobbing for apples. It was in no way a traditional wedding. But Wes and Mari didn't care. Their relationship was almost as far from traditional as you could get. It only made sense that their wedding would be, too.

Wes and Mari danced like they were the only ones there. He spun her around the room- he'd gotten much better at leading over the past two years -and Mari let him. The dress didn't slow her down at all.

They danced for hours, which only felt like minutes to them. Once they were both gasping for breath, they moved to the food, pilling it onto their plates. It had been a successful harvest, and seeing as it was fall, they had plenty of food to spare.

They sat down, enjoying their dinner, watching the dancers and joking with one another. Many people came up to congratulate them, which Wes appreciated.

The second they were rested enough, they returned to the dance floor. People started to leave soon after; the sun had started to set, after all, and seeing as the street lights didn't work, you tended to want to be home before nightfall. Only when the musicians started to pack up, however, were Wes and Mari convinced to go home.

He picked her up again, kissing her as he did, before making the short walk to their home. It was a pretty home, painted blue, with white wallpaper covering the walls. Wes opened the door, walked up the stairs, and laid Mari on their bed.

His wedding had been far from what he'd imagined as a boy, and his bride about as off as possible. Yet, in these times, Wes couldn't imagine how it could be better.

Mari giggled and grabbed his shirt collar, pulling his lips down to her's. He let her.

The only thing Wes regretted was not having children. He'd always wanted to be a father; after everything his mother had done to him, he'd made it his life goal to give his child a better home life than he'd had. But Mari couldn't have children; she had tokophobia, the fear of pregnancy, and had gotten her tubes tied long ago. Wes supposed it was for the best; he couldn't imagine putting her in pain, and if he ever had to pick between her and a future child, he'd always pick her. 

And who knows? Orphans were far from rare these days, seeing as childbirth was so risky. There was more than one way to have a child, and Mari was open to the idea of having one; it was only the pregnancy part that she wasn't okay with, not being a mother. If Wes was fated to have a child, then he'd end up with one. He sure hoped he was.

As Mari slipped his shirt over his head, all those thoughts slipped from his mind. All that mattered to him was her, right now. Whatever the future held in store for them, he was glad he'd be facing it with her. In fact, he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I love you, Mari," He smiled, pulling away from her just long enough to say those words.

Mari smiled and pressed her forehead against his, before wrapping her leg around his waist and pulling him onto the bed beneath her. She kissed him, and Wes happily let her.

Everything he'd gone through was worth it, as it had brought him here, now. He was going to spend his life here, with her. The thought thrilled him.

He thought back to the time they'd met, back at his old group. Back then, she'd only been a threat, a baseball-wielding woman who looked like she could kill him with one swing. If you'd told that Wes that he'd end up married to her, he would've called you insane. And he would've been right. As it wasn't that Wes who loved her; loving her had changed him. That Wes was dead.

She'd fought him, hunted him, caught him, loved him. And for that, Wes couldn't be more grateful. 

**_The End_ **

 


End file.
